


Started With A Whisper (and that was when I kissed her)

by Luceycantdance



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Barista Loki, Coffee Addict Tony Stark, Companionable Snark, Daddy Issues, Darcy has a Betting Pool, Emotional Constipation, Frostiron Bang 2013, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Jane Foster/Thor, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Slow Build, Tony and Loki have issues, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luceycantdance/pseuds/Luceycantdance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You are a very rude barista, do you know that?”</i>
</p><p> <i>“And you are an exceedingly annoying customer, has anyone ever told you?”</i></p><p> <i>“Nope,” Stark said, still looking at Loki as if he was his personal entertainment for the day. “Not to my face, at least.”</i></p><p> <i>“Well I assure you Mr. Stark,” He put the finished latte down on the counter and shoved it over. “They've thought it.”</i></p><p>(Coffee shop AU) In which Loki sucks at customer service and Tony's kinda into that. Welcome to Barton's Beans, where the coffee's great and the sass comes free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hey Baby, won’t you look my way (I can be your new addiction)

**Author's Note:**

> This is what _would have been_ my contribution to the **[Frostiron Bang,](http://frostironbang.tumblr.com/)** had I been able to complete it in time. Obviously that is not something I succeeded in doing.
> 
> Based off a roleplay between myself and [Onceandfuturekimli](http://onceandfuturekimli.tumblr.com/). Special thanks to her, [chaperoned](http://chaperoned.tumblr.com/) and [etclove](http://etclove.tumblr.com/) for all of their help, and to [tonystarkson](http://tonystarkson.tumblr.com/) for being the most fantastically supportive beta reader I could've asked for.  
> Last but not least, kudos to my artist, [ oyonok](http://oyonok.tumblr.com/)! Her gorgeous artwork can be viewed **[HERE](http://oyonok.tumblr.com/post/62582592434/started-with-a-whisper-and-that-was-when-i-kissed)** , as well as throughout the fic. Thank you so much for putting up with me through this process - your art was more than I could have possibly wished for for this story. :)
> 
> With a little luck (and a LOT more free time), I should have the last two chapters of this done in the next week or so. It will not stay a WIP for long, I promise you.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters. They are all the property of Marvel. As far as I know, Loki has never worn an apron in canon. Mores the pity.  
>  The title is taken from the song **_Everybody Talks_ by Neon Trees**

_Ding-ding!_

Loki winced, his fingers clenching around the plastic cup. The insistent sound of the bell was like a hot poker to his brain. He was still recovering when an equally inisitent voice hollered at him from the direction of the counter.

“Hey Stretch, what’s a guy have to do to get a hot drink here?”

Loki looked up and was briefly disoriented. His own face scowled back at him, reflected in a pair of large, expensive sunglasses. The owner of these abominable glasses was perched on a counter stool, his hand resting next to the offending bell.

Loki _hated_ the bells.

Months ago, Barton had hung a string of bells on the front door of the coffee shop. At Barton’s Beans it was ‘his shop, his rules’, so Loki had had to bite his tongue and endure the change. They were hateful things; bright and jingling and offensively merry. On busy days, they jingled almost constantly, cutting above the low chatter and the steady gurgle of the espresso machine. Thor didn’t seem to mind them. Darcy said they added character. Loki loathed them with a force he was unaware he could muster towards inanimate objects.

Today had been a particularly wretched morning. There was a steady migraine throbbing in Loki’s temples, a large coffee stain drying on his apron; the espresso machine had fucked up twice, nearly drenching him in scalding liquid. The customers had been an endless hoard of pretentious teenagers and surly business people. Loki had long since given up acting cordial. The dual sensations of coffee grounds under his nails and his shirt sticking to his abdomen had killed his customer service skills for the day.    

_Ding-ding!_

_This_ ringing came from the bell they kept on the dining counter; the one with the hand-written sign that cheerily encouraged people to ‘please ring for service!’ The bell-ringer with the gaudy sunglasses seemed entirely unaffected by Loki’s mood. Oblivious or just unconcerned, Loki couldn’t actually tell.

“The line is over there,” the barista jerked his head toward the register, where a shabby looking teenager waited impatiently for his iced coffee. “I’d be _happy_ to help you register, sir.”  He forced a perfunctory smile and turned away as he popped a lid on the cup in his hands. The man made a sound behind him, probably indignant. Loki ignored him. He handed the teen his gently crushed beverage and sent him away sulking. By the time he closed the register and looked back up, he was face to face with those obtrusively large glasses again. He heaved and inward sigh.

“How can I help –”

“What was this place before?” The sunglasses demanded, cutting Loki off. “A bakery, right? Or no, not that. It was something though, I swear I’ve been here before…” He swiveled his head around dubiously, taking in the chalkboard menu and the corkboard covered with flyers. “Was it a bar?” He wondered aloud, his brow was furrowed. He didn’t seem to be expecting an answer from Loki as he squinted at the burnt-orange walls with suspicion. His expression was hard to read beneath the obnoxious glasses.

“A dry cleaners.” Loki corrected. The man was shorter now that he wasn’t perched on one of the counter stools. Much shorter. Loki might have had a full five inches on the guy. Granted, Loki was used to being the tallest in the room. But it was still satisfying to have the jerk in the aviators looking _up_ to talk to him.

Not that he was looking at Loki at the moment. “ _Dry-cleaners_ , right, that’s what it was! I knew I recognized it last time…” The guy nodded, clicking his tongue and looking at the antique espresso machine with interest. “They really fixed the place up. How long have you guys been here?”

“Four years.” Loki answered, drumming his fingers on the counter irritably. The guy  _whistled_ in surprise, and Loki clenched his teeth at the fresh wave of pain through his skull.

“Shit, I need to get out more.” The man said vaguely. But he seemed to be speaking to himself more than anyone else. He still wasn’t looking at Loki, his attention focused instead on the menu over his shoulder. He stood there, tapping his credit card irritatingly against the counter and not paying Loki the slightest bit of attention. Loki waited, wrestling down his impatience. The lunch rush had died, leaving no one to save Loki from this man’s company. _Fantastic._

“Hey, what happened to Blondie?” Sunglasses asked suddenly. “Last time I was here there was this blonde guy,” the man gestured to his own styled brown hair, “You know, huge? Handsome? Body like a line-backer, personality like a golden retriever?” He leaned to peek around Loki, as if he suspected Thor might be hiding underneath his apron.

Loki bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.

“He's is busy,” He snapped. “You’ll have to take your coffee without a side of eye candy today, I’m afraid." He fixed the most sour excuse for a smile he could muster on to his face. "Apologies for the inconvenience.”

There was a moment’s pause. The man behind the glasses had stopped craning to look around Loki and settled back on his heels. For the first time, Loki had apparently earned his full attention. He could see the blurry motion of blinking eyes behind the dark lenses. He stood his ground, aware that he had been out of line but not really in the mood to care at this point. Finally, the man’s mouth kicked up on one side.

“Well, I don’t know about that." The man said, his voice blessedly quieter now. "Blondie’s sweet and all, but he’s not really my type. ” There was tone to the guy’s comment Loki couldn’t quite place. “He certainly never _sassed_ me.” He was still looking straight at Loki as he reached up to pull his glasses off.

They had obscured an absurd amount of this guy’s face. Once they were out of the way Loki’s reflection was replaced by a frankly startling pair of eyes. His neat goatee and freshly ironed suit all gave Loki the impression he was talking to some middle-aged businessman. But the cocky grin and bright eyes were set in a disarmingly youthful face, creased only by premature laugh lines. His eyes were honey-brown and framed with lashes so ludicrously long they’d make _Darcy_ jealous.

“Well, as you were so clever to notice, I am not ‘Blondie’,” Loki answered silkily.

The brown-eyed man snickered, and Loki felt some of his tension ease despite himself. He watched him tuck the horrendous sunglasses into his jacket pocket with an odd sense of satisfaction.

“You’ve got an accent.” The guy said, looking back up. He sounded genuinely surprised by the realization. “What is that, British?”

“English.” Loki corrected, narrowing his eyes. “And I’ve been speaking to you for the last five minutes.”

The man gave him a careless shrug. “Yeah, sorry, I have a thing,” he gestured meaninglessly, waving his credit card about in the air. “An attention span thing, you know – and anyway, in my defense, you were boring before.”

Loki blinked several times, incredulous. The _nerve_ of this man!

“So I am interesting enough _now_ then?”

“Pretty much.” Was the unremorseful answer he received. “What’s your name…?” The guy leaned forward on the counter, squinting at his name tag. Loki resisted the urge to cover it with his hand and stick his tongue out.

“ _Lo-ki_ ,” the man pronounced deliberately, cocking his head to the side. It was his turn to look incredulous.

“Loki? Really? Is that a British name? That’s not British at all. That’s Scandinavian or something. _Loki._ ” The guy tried out Loki’s name several times, seeming to consider it very seriously, before finally shaking his head. “Nope.”

Loki raised his eyebrows.

“I beg your pardon?” He asked, despite his better instincts. “‘Nope’ what?”

“Nope. Not into it. You need a nickname. I like nicknames, let’s give you a nickname.” The guy crossed his arms and rubbed his chin, humming thoughtfully.

“I do not need a nickname.”

He wasn’t sure the man was listening to him anymore. He certainly didn’t respond, instead continuing to look him up in down searchingly, as if he’d spy a good nickname sewn into cuffs of his shirt.

Loki pursed his lips pointedly to avoid smiling. This man was _annoying_ , and certainly didn’t need any encouragement. He cleared his throat loudly. When no other response seemed forthcoming and the staring continued, Loki decided this whole thing had gone on for long enough.

“Sir," he bit the honorific with extreme reluctance. "Can I actually _help_ you with anything, or…?”

“A latte would be a start,” the man suggested lazily, leaning his elbows on Loki’s spotless counter. The angle forced the man to look up at Loki through his absurdly long lashes. A smug grin still crooked up one side of the man’s mouth. “Make it a double shot, caffeine helps me think. And oh, be a doll and toss in a few of those cannolis, wouldja?” The man offered Loki his card and then had the audacity to a  _wink_ at him. “Thanks.”

Loki’s mouth fell open. He snapped it shut a half second later then he realized what he was doing, but the damage was done. Despite his outrage, Loki found could do nothing to hide his smirk this time.

“Oh you think you’re _very_ charming, don’t you?” he said dryly.

“Well, I’m not the _only_ one who thinks so,” the man retorted. “Why, Oscar? You don’t find me charming?” He smiled beguilingly at Loki, quirking his eyebrows and handing over his credit card.

Loki snatched the gold card from the man’s waiting fingers. “That’s not the first word I’d use.” He punched in the man’s order and swiped his card, sliding it back across the counter. “Name for the order?”

“Stark.” The guy answered slipping his card back into his wallet.

“Stark,” Loki repeated, scrawling the name onto a medium sized coffee cup. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Right. And why am I ‘Oscar’?”

“The Grouch,” The man said, as if these words offered any clarification. When Loki looked nonplussed, he elaborated. “You know, Sesame Street? The angry green puppet? Lives in a garbage can?”

“I resemble a homeless puppet children’s television?”

“God no,” Stark assured hastily. “You’re not nearly furry enough. You just act like him.”

“Ah." Loki deadpanned, unimpressed. "How...charming."

“Alright, be fair, that was my first shot at a nickname.” Stark said defensively. “We’re in the trial and error period right now. There are bound to be some hits and misses.”

Loki wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He busied himself with plucking three cannolis up with pastry tongs and shoving them into a paper bag. “How would you like your latte?” he asked.

“Surprise me,” was the instant reply.

For the first time, Stark had made a request Loki could get behind. He kept his approval off his face as he moved to steam the milk. He felt Stark’s eyes follow him from the counter.

“So what words _would_ you use to describe me then?” Stark asked. “If not ‘charming’, I mean.”

Clearly this guy didn't understand the concept of quitting while he was ahead. 

“The word ‘tedious’ comes to mind,” Loki answered, turning his back on Stark to pump a mixture of syrups into the bottom of his cup. He could tell that piqued Stark’s interest. When he turned back around he caught the man settling back on his flat feet nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t been craning to see what Loki was doing.

Stark’s eyes were crinkling up at the corners, his smirk spreading into a proper smile. “Ouch.” He finally said. “Tedious, really? Am I boring you?”

“Don’t take it personally,” Loki drawled as he poured added two hearty shots of espresso to the cup. “I have a thing. An ‘I don’t like people’ thing. You know.” He maintained a straight face as he frothed the milk. "Nothing personal."

“Now you’re just openly mocking me.”

“Am I?” Loki said innocently, snapping the cap on top.

“You are a very rude barista, do you know that?”

“And you are an exceedingly annoying customer, has anyone ever told you?”

“Nope,” Stark said, still looking at Loki as if he was his personal entertainment for the day. “Not to my face, at least.”

“Well I assure you Mr. Stark,” He put the finished latte down on the counter and shoved it over. “They’ve thought it.”

Stark reached out to wrap his fingers around the hot cardboard cup. “Well, thank you, Professor X, for that insight on the human mind.”

“Hm, your nicknaming hasn’t improved.”

“What, now you don’t like being compared to a mutant paraplegic? I’d say that’s a huge step up from a muppet.”

“Do all the customer service people in your life have nicknames?”

“Only the ones I like.”

Loki decided not to address that. “Aren’t they missing you at the office by now?”

“Why do you assume I’m going to an office?”

Loki gave him a pitying look. He tapped a long finger on the plastic cover of Stark’s latte.

“You just ordered hot coffee in the middle of July.” He said. “People only do that when they’re on their way to an air conditioned office.” He arched an eyebrow, looking the man up and down once. “And the suit is, admittedly, a giveaway.”

Stark chuckled again. “You think you’re _very_ clever, don’t you?” He mocked.

“I am not the only one who thinks so.” Loki found himself mocking right back.  He tipped his chin up, a little pleased with himself.

Stark looked right back up at him, his eyes flicking, bright and amused, over the features of Loki’s face.

“Well, I’ll say this much, Legs,” he began again, and his voice had slipped into something warm and honeyed around the newest nickname. “You’re certainly not boring.”

Stark winked at him.

Loki opened his mouth to make some retort. None came, and he quickly snapped it shut again.

The asshole was _toying_ with him!

He opened his mouth again – to tell him off or to question this _bizarre_ new nickname, he wasn’t sure – when Clint Barton’s voice punched through his concentration.

“Quitting time,” Barton grunted at him as he pushed his way through the back door with an elbow; his hands were occupied with a platter of fresh muffins. “Go punch out, I’m taking over until Darcy gets her ass here.” He set the platter down on the counter, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. “Get outta here, kid.”

Loki craned his head around to eye the clock on the wall. Was it that late already? The last time Loki checked he had an hour left. 

“That’s my cue,” Stark chimed, looking at his watch. “There’s a fine line between a fashionably long lunches, and ‘outrageous wastes of a work day’ when it comes to Ms. Potts.”

He gave Loki a sardonic little salute. “Thanks for the life advice, Legs.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out those hateful sunglasses. “I’ll treasure it.” With a parting smirk the man flipped the sunglasses open, nabbed his bag of cannolis and was out the door with a fresh _jingle_ of bells.

Loki watched him go, his brain a jumble of frustration and vague embarrassment. He pushed his way through the double doors to the break room, scowling. He didn’t like being stumped. He didn’t like strangers making a fool of him. And he decided he _hated_ winking. He ground his teeth together as he untied his apron, hanging it on a peg in the back room with his visor. He tried to shake the mood off, focusing instead on idea of a hot bath and the opportunity to scrape the grit out from under his fingernails.

It wasn’t until he had marched outside, making his way home with his shirt still smelling of espresso, that he realized his migraine was gone.

 

\---

 

Loki supposed there were worse jobs in the world. 

On his better days, he counted himself lucky that he even had a job in this market. On his good days, he knew that paying rent on his grubby little flat was well worth no longer living under Odin’s roof. On his very good days, Loki might even appreciate Barton’s Beans and all its tacky, locally-owned glory. 

But the days when his alarm shrieked at 4:30 in the morning were _not_ his good days. In the pre-dawn light while he forced himself into that atrocious green apron and _absurd_ matching visor, he was hard-pressed to think of any job that could possibly be more tortuous.  Loki hated the opening shifts. He hated watching the sun finish rising through the cafe windows, knowing he wouldn’t be free until well passed noon. He hated working with _Thor_ , his clingy lump of a brother, who made shit coffee and was _still_ the customer’s favorite. He hated every cranky businessman, chatty housewife and pretentious teenager that ambled up to his counter, demanding frappes and soy lattes and ignoring the tip jar entirely.  

  
But money was money, and at very least, all Loki’s coffee was free. Small victories.

There was a reason Loki endured his job. Well, there were several reasons, actually. It paid a living wage and included a health benefits package, two things Loki would be lucky to get anywhere else without a degree. Another reason was that Barton’s place was within walking distance of his ratty little apartment, so he didn’t have to rely on Thor or – god forbid – _public transportation_. Those reasons alone made his job acceptable, if not always endurable.

Loki could also grudgingly admit that working with coffee wasn’t _torturous._ Dealing with customers was abysmal, but Loki found a simple satisfaction in preparing coffee. There was something soothing about the process; selecting the perfect roasts, steaming the milk, pumping the various syrups and flavorings into the mix. And Loki was actually _good_ at it. It was an art, and never let it be said that Loki was not an artist when he fancied himself one. What Loki lacked in patience, he made up in spades as a barista. No one else, not even Clint, could make coffee quite like Loki could.

He had quickly made himself indispensable to Barton. He mixed up custom blends for mochas, lattes, cappuccinos, and made sure Barton was around when the shop filled with appreciative ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’. Thor and Darcy both had _tried_ to replicate Loki’s mixes, with only passable results at best. Thor had only bare-minimum coffee-making skills, and while Darcy’s creations were acceptable enough, it wasn’t _her_ stuff that brought in the regulars. Eventually Barton gave up trying to pry Loki’s process out of him. He kept him on, despite his 'piss poor attitude'. He supplied him with as many hours as he could take and all the free espresso as he could drink. Loki counted it as a personal victory; the first one he’d had since he’d moved out of his father’s house.

He could count so few victories in his life, this in itself was almost reason enough to stay.  _Almost._

 

\---

 

When Tony was six, he built his first circuit-board. Years of watching his father make things, had given Tony an itch for a creation of his own. It hadn’t taken much to convince Howard to let him take a crack at it. Tony did it all in his father’s personal workshop, under his careful supervision.

This was before Howard started drinking heavily, before he started spending more time at work than at home.

Tony could remember every tiny detail: how his dad had helped him grip the tiny soldering iron, how he’d carefully directed him when Tony’d gotten stuck, and how he’d smiled and ruffled his hair when the thing actually, finally worked.

“Good job, Kid,” he had said. “You got your mom’s looks, but’s it’s definitely my brain in there.” When he smiled at Tony, his eyes crinkled and his dark moustache bristled around his lip. “Go on, go tell her so.” And Tony had been overwhelmed with his accomplishment, he’d ran to tell his mother without a second’s hesitation. 

It had given Tony unrealistic expectations about working with his father. As it turned out, Howard Stark had much more time for his six-year-old prodigy than his twenty-eight-year-old heir.

“Look Obie, all I am asking is that he _consider_ it. I’ve sent him the proposal, I’ve brought it up over dinner, and I’ve put the file on his on his desk like everyone else! All you need to do is talk me up. Make him take me into consideration, that’s _all._ ”

“Tony, your father has a lot of proposals to go through, from some very senior engineers at the company,” Obie’s voice was slow and cloying over the phone. “I know your arc reactor idea is interesting, but…”

“Interesting?” Tony repeated, bristling at once. “ _Interesting?_ Obie the project could revolutionize clean energy as we know it. If I succeed in miniaturizing it -”

“ _If,_ Tony.” Obie repeated gently. “You haven’t actually done it yet. The idea has potential, certainly, but you've got to reasonable.”

Tony clenched his teeth but said nothing. 

The man continued in that same infuriating tone. “He can’t be seen showing un-due favoritism, you know that.”

Tony snorted, his fingers clenching on the wheel.

“What was that?” Obie said.

“I’m just saying, he pretty much nipped the whole ‘favoritism’ claim in the bud when he refused to hire me as more than a glorified _intern_ for the first five years.”

“You were _seventeen,_ Tony – ”

“I was an _MIT graduate_ , Obie.”

“You were a teenager,” Obie spoke in the well-worn tones of a man who’d said it all before.

“A teenager who’d just graduated summa cum laude!” Tony argued. “I was more qualified than half of the douchebags he interviewed -”

“You made your stance on the candidates very clear to both of us,” Obie interrupted him; he sounded so much like a placating uncle, Tony had to resist the urge to chuck his phone out of the car window. “You made yourself clear to the candidates too, if I remember correctly.”

“I did you guys a big favor,” Tony insisted, “Those people were a mess. Two of them stormed out and I’m pretty sure I made the jumpy one cry.” He _had_ made the jumpy one cry. The one man Howard ended up hiring that day - the bald one -  _still_ had the habit of fleeing rooms whenever Tony entered. He actually felt a little bad about it. “There was no way you guys would wanna hire a bunch of – ”

“Alright, alright, I get it. You win.” The indulgent tone in Obie’s voice made Tony feel instantly childish.

“So you’ll do it then?” He pressed on, not letting the condescension get the better of him.

Obie sighed heavily over the line. Tony could practically see him rubbing the bridge of his nose in that weary way he did when he’d decided Tony was too much trouble to argue with.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Tony punched the air victoriously as Obie continued in that same placating voice.

“ – make no promises, understand? We’ve got a lot of worthy candidates. All we can hope to do is get your project on the roster for review.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said distractedly. “No problem. Whatever.”

Obie made some bemused comment, but Tony had decidedly stopped listening. He took a turn at the light while Obie blustered.

“Yeah, sure. You’re my favorite Obie,” Tony cheerfully announced, his fingers thumping a rhythm on his steering wheel. “Don’t listen to what people say about you; you’re an alright guy.”

Obie chuckled indulgently. “Yeah, yeah, okay, flatterer.” He chided. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

“I have full confidence in you,” Tony assured. “Keep in touch.”

The call ended with a click, and Tony took a long breath. He had known Obadiah Stane since he was a kid. When he began seeing less and less of his father, he started seeing more and more of Obie. For all of his professional life, Obie had been a go-between whenever Tony needed to convince his father of something. He was an expert at schmoozing Howard into anything. He had even successfully smoothed over some of the rougher parts of Tony and Howard’s relationship, at least in the workplace.

Still, Tony felt inexplicably off-put whenever the older man did him favors. The feeling irked him, anxious and insistent, like an itch he couldn’t reach. And even though it was 10:15 on a Thursday morning, Tony already felt tired and drawn out.

He could use a coffee.

The little coffee house he’d taken a liking too was nothing particularly impressive. It had the benefits of an off-street parking lot and a location far enough away from Stark Industries that there was minimal chance of running into anyone. Locally owned and operated, Tony was impressed the place hadn’t been choked out by a Starbucks yet. It sat on a particularly prime piece of coffee shop real-estate, snuggled between a university and blocks of residential apartments. The spot had been wasted on a dry cleaners. During the school year, Barton’s Beans would thrive off profits from college kids and professors alone. Even in the summer the place had more than its fair share of regulars. Some business men Tony knew could take lessons from Barton – whatever he was doing, it worked.

Passers-by stared at Tony’s car covetously as he pulled into the back parking lot and cut the ignition. He gave them a little salute, slipping the keys into his pocket as he made his way around to the front. The day was hot and sunny, the light reflecting brightly off the huge windows that lined the front of the coffee shop. Tony was exceedingly grateful he’d left his suit jacket in the car – being bundled up in his air-conditioned office all day gave him no real concept of weather. He was rolling up his shirt sleeves as he approached the door – slightly inset, the walls around it plastered with flyers and advertisements. The door it’s self was adorned with nothing but an plain ‘Open’ sign and a string of jingle bells, which bounced around nosily as Tony pushed it open.

The inside was dim and cool, filled with the smell of coffee beans and the sounds of chatter. Music played soft and slightly tinny over the speakers. Tony was in luck; there was no line to stop him from waltzing up to the counter.

“Good morning, how can I help you?”

The speaker was a short brunette with black-framed glasses and full lips. The first couple times Tony had come in the register had been manned by a tall blond, with a friendly face and a body like a football player. He had been fun to chat up, but his lattes had been more hot-milk than anything else. This girl looked a little younger – probably a student at the college. She had a pleasantly curvy figure and a pretty oval face. Tony smiled at her.

“Couple of those cookies would be a start,” he said as he pulled out his wallet. “I forgot to eat this morning.”

 “Two cookies for the man in the suit.” She announced, “Will you be wanting coffee, or are you just having cookies for breakfast today?”

Tony was opening his mouth to respond - or to flirt, he hadn’t decided yet – when he caught sight of the tall, slim shape behind her. The other barista had his back to them; a bored slump to his shoulders as he fiddled with the iPod connected to the store speakers. Something about the posture was familiar.

“Legs?”

The slim figure didn’t take notice of him, but brunette serving him frowned. She glanced down at her own legs from behind the counter.

“Uh, those aren’t on the menu, dude.” She seemed aware that his attention was focused elsewhere, though, as she turned around a moment later to see where he was looking.

“Hey, Princess,” she called at her lanky co-worker. “Look alive. I think you’ve got a gentleman caller.”

The tall barista turned around at her shout, his brow furrowed in irritation. He was exactly the person Tony remembered; the sassy barista with the killer cheek bones and wickedly green eyes. When he caught sight of Tony, he only frowned harder. His eyes flickered briefly to the brunette as if in doubt. _He doesn’t recognize me,_ Tony realized. He’d have to fix that.

“Princess, huh?” He pressed onward, regardless of the look he was receiving. “I like ‘Legs’ better, personally, but hey, whatever floats your boat.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking contemplative. “Good to know you don’t reject _all_ nicknames, I suppose. Should I just stick with royal titles, then?”

Loki blinked, and Tony watched recognition sweep over his face. His stiff posture relaxed somewhat, and he gave Tony a dry look.

“I don’t respond to ‘Princess’ any more than I respond to being called body parts.” He turned his attention back to the iPod, indifferent. “I just find it hard to ignore people when they shout in my direction.” He shot another look at the barista with glasses. She raised her hands up in automatic defense.

“Hey, to be fair, I also call him Lollipop and Prickles,” she told Tony. “Princess is the only one he doesn’t threaten homicide over.” She gave her co-worker a side-long glance. “Anymore.”

Loki scowled, while Tony face split into a look of absolute glee.

“Oh, I knew I liked you.” He announced to the girl. “What’s your name? I’d read your name tag, but given the placement I’m afraid I might get distracted.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Loki made a noise of distaste.

The girl cackled. “It’s Darcy,” she said, smirking as she flicked her fingers up to point at her face. “Eyes up here, stranger.”

“Nice to meet you Darcy,” He said with his most charming grin.

Darcy giggled. Loki’s eyes narrowed.

“Does flirting ever get you anything?” the tall barista drawled. “Or is your ego just that big?”

Tony shrugged. “Little bit of both, I guess.” He admitted. “Depends who I’m flirting with.”

Loki hummed dismissively. “You should be aware, Barton has a very strict sexual harassment policy.”

Loki had to bob out of the way as Darcy made to elbow him in the ribs. 

“Now that’s no fair,” Tony said. “Last time I came in here and flirted with _you,_ you made me the best latte I’d ever had.” Tony leaned up against the counter. “Don’t go being inconsistent now, Legs.”

Darcy stopped trying to jab Loki in favor of gawking at him. Loki refused to look at her, scoffing at Tony instead. 

“You called that _flirting_ do you?” his voice was dry. “I was under the impression you were bored.”

“Only in the beginning,” Tony reminded him. “You’ll be pleased to know you became fun even _before_ your coffee blew my mind.”

 _That_ made Loki’s lip twitch, the barest hint of a grin he was struggling to hide. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re the second person to accuse me of flattery today,” Tony said, still smirking up at the tall barista. “I’d say it gets me _some_ places.”

“Oh, yes,” he drawled, eying Tony up for a moment with an unimpressed look. “I’m sure it’s gotten you _many_ places.”

“Is that a compliment?” Tony said, positively delighted to have Loki playing back.

“No.” Loki answered immediately. “Now are you going to order coffee, or should I talk to Barton about the sexual harassment.”

“Will you be making the coffee?” Tony pressed. “No offense, Cookie,” Tony said, looking over at Darcy. The girl had leaned against the pastry display to watch them like a particularly exciting tennis match.

“Huh? Oh, whatever,” Darcy shrugged in nonchalance. “He’s better at it any – wait, what did you call me?”

“Cookie.” He repeated. “Impulse nickname. Not my most creative, admittedly.”

Darcy shrugged, “I’ll take it.”

“Good woman.” Tony looked back at Loki. “That latte. What was in that?”

Loki narrowed his eyes at him. “Why?”

“Why?” Tony repeated, incredulous. “Have you not been listening? It was _spectacular_.” He drew out the word with relish, remembering that glorious first sip he’d taken a week ago. How he had coped with the office coffee since then was a mystery to him. “I want another one.”

Loki seemed to consider this for a long moment. Tony took that long moment to appreciate the attractive cut of Loki's jawline. Darcy seemed to spend the long moment looking back and forth between them like they were a sideshow act.

Finally, Loki relented. “Fine.” He glanced at Darcy. “Charge him for a medium double shot.”

“Oh, make it a large,” Tony corrected.

“Large latte and two cookies,” Darcy repeated, moving to punch the order in to the register. “Coming right up.”

Loki nabbed a large cup and went straight to work. Tony was craning his neck to try and watch him when Darcy interrupted.

“That’ll be $6.50,” The cash register opened with a loud ‘ding!’, and Darcy handed him his receipt. “Name for the order?”

“Stark.”

Tony caught Loki pause, frowning at his cup with a sharpie in hand. He mouthed something Tony couldn’t catch under his breath.

“So,” Darcy pulled Tony’s attention back. “How do you know him anyway?” she jerked her head in Loki’s direction as she shut the register with her hip.

“He doesn't know me.” Loki said immediately, before Tony could even open his mouth. But was frowning now as he steamed the milk. Tony could practically hear the cogs in the barista’s brain turning and he glared shrewdly at his crisp dress shirt.

Darcy looked at him incredulously. “Bullshit. Did you work at the college or something?” Darcy pressed. “Did you go there when he was – ”

“I don’t know him, Lewis,” Loki interrupted crisply. “He’s just a customer.”

Tony frowned petulantly. “Now you’ve hurt my feelings.” He said. “I thought I’d made more of an impression than ‘just a customer’.”

Loki gave a little snort. “You _would_ think so.” He’d started up the espresso now. And damn, Tony had been too distracted to see what syrup he’d pumped into the cup.

“Stark,” Loki looked up at him mid-pour. His eyes flicked from Tony’s expensive tie to his face. “As in _Stark Industries_ Stark?”

“That would be the same Stark’s, yeah.” Tony said, scratching idly at his chin.

Darcy made a strangled gasping noise, wheeling on him wide-eyed.

“Shut up!” She demanded. “You are not _the_ Tony Stark!”

Tony arched an eyebrow at the excited girl. “Well I’m certainly not Howard Stark, I’ll tell you that much.”

Darcy made another slightly concerning noise, flailing in a way that forced Loki to dodge her elbow. She seemed to be franticly wrestling something out of her apron pocket.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Jane is gonna be _so_ jealous!” She announced gleefully. “Can I get a picture? Please? She’ll never believe this otherwise.” She held up her phone and gave him a pleading look. Tony was pretty sure he saw Loki roll his eyes.

“Only if you promise to rub it all your friend’s faces.” Tony demanded. “Real hard-core showing off, none of that modest bullshit. I’m talking full-force bragging.”

“Done!”

There followed a moment of confusion, during which Darcy took several clumsy selfies of the two of them form various angles. Loki had given her such a _look_ when she asked him to take it, she hadn’t asked him again. Tony could practically feel the judgment wafting off his perfectly arched eyebrows.

“What’s a matter, Legs?” Tony gave the sour man a roguish sort of grin as Darcy hopped down from her seat on the counter. “You want one too?”

“What are you doing here?” Loki acted as if Tony hadn’t spoken. His eyes were green slits of suspicion. “The Stark building is all the way uptown.”

“Astute observation, Dr. Watson.”

“There must be a dozen coffee shops over there,” Loki pressed on. “Why is a billionaire slumming it in a college coffee house?”

Loki once again dodged Darcy's at him with a deftness that only came with practice.

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “There should probably be a ‘genius’ in that description somewhere.” He said. “‘Billionaire genius’ has a much cooler ring to it.”

“Dude, don’t question this!  What is your problem?” Darcy squawked at Loki.

“Yeah, Cookie has a point,” Tony gestured to Darcy. “Who are you to question my motives here?” He was sure his face was terribly smug at this point. But hey, it wasn’t every day he got an ego-boost free with his coffee.

Loki seemed unimpressed. He scoffed as he turned back to Tony’s latte.

Darcy wrapped Tony's cookies up in a paper bag. “Don’t mind Prickles,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially. “He gets off on being rude to people.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow with an interested noise. “Well, good to know I’m having _some_ effect.” He whispered back. Darcy snorted loudly.

Loki set the cup down between them, and Darcy jumped.

“Your latte.” He deadpanned.

Tony snatched it up immediately. The warmth radiated through his palm. Without hesitation he brought it to his mouth and took a sip. The effect was immediate. Near-scalding liquid filled his mouth and ran down his throat. The strong bitter taste of the espresso was weighed out by frothy milk. He could feel the rush of caffeine and some sweet, lingering flavor at the back of his palette. Was it fruity? Tony could have sworn it had been last time, but this time it was different. Spicier and creamier than the last one. It was _wonderful._ Tony eyes slid shut in delight, and the noise of pleasure he let out wasn’t even for show this time.

He put the cup down with a happy sigh.

“That,” he began, “is _not_ the latte you made me before.”

“No, it isn’t.” Loki said, and his expression was smug. “Are you complaining?”

“I probably should.”

“Well, if you don’t like it,” Loki reached out to take it back. Tony pulled the cup protectively toward his chest.

“No, no,” He said hurriedly. “I’ll cope. Hands off.”

Loki seemed satisfied with himself. “Good.”

Darcy was watching them again, a small smile playing at her lips. Tony took another gulp of his latte. The flavor was definitely different this time. Like vanilla and something else. When he pulled away, he spotted the name scrawled on the side of the cup in neat, spiky cursive writing. It was much too long to be his own name, and Tony squinted at it a moment.

“‘Angelica Pickles’?” Tony’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. “You wrote the name of a _Rugrat_ on my latte?” he asked with incredulous delight.

“Shut up, no he didn’t!” Darcy seemed as surprised as he was. Tony tipped the cup around to show her.

Loki’s expression was unreadable. “You are having cookies for breakfast,” he pointed out. “And in my experience, you’ve acted very much like a spoiled three-year-old.” He gave Tony an innocent look, but his eyes shone with a humor Tony _definitely_ liked the look of. “What’s a matter, Stark? Don’t like the nickname?”

Tony laughed, while Darcy stared at Loki as if she’d never seen him before. Loki seemed to be pointedly ignoring her.

Tony’s phone suddenly started ringing in his pocket.

He pulled it out and checked. Pepper. Right, shit. She’s said he had a meeting or something. In about five minutes. Tony grimaced. As an act of self-preservation, he let the call go to voice mail.

“Well, ‘babies’,” he said solemnly to both the baristas. Darcy snorted indulgently while Loki looked decidedly unimpressed. “I’m afraid duty calls for us big kids. Nice to meet you Cookie. Stay distracting.” He winked at Darcy as he nabbed his bag of cookies and began backing up toward the door.

“Until we meet again, Cynthia,” he called at Loki.

 “Calling me doll names will go no better than puppet names, I promise you.”

“Be careful with that expression, it could stick.” Tony grinned at the sour-faced barista as he pushed, backwards out the door into back into the August heat. As the door jingled shut behind him, he heard Darcy whirling on Loki.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

 

\---

 

It became apparent to Loki by the next day that Darcy was _not_ going to let this go.

“Why on earth do you care, Lewis?” He had finally snapped the dozenth time she’d brought it up. Darcy looked at him like he had grown three heads.

“Are you _serious?_ The guy is like a scientist super star! He was on the Forbes list of the ‘Top Fifty Most Promising Minds of this Decade’!”

“And since when do you actually care about science?” Loki sneered as he picked up another dirty mug to clean. The coffee shop was practically empty, the last stragglers draining the now-cold cold dregs of their drinks and flipping idly through their smart phones. Loki was working his way through a sparse mish-mash of dirty mugs and dishes while Darcy dried them.

“Since Jane talks about it 24/7, shut up.” The long-haired girl shot back. “Science or not, dude, why didn’t you tell me you knew a _celebrity_?”

“I do not ‘know a celebrity’.” He insisted, wondering how she qualified her concept of ‘celebrity’ anyway.  “I told you, he was just a customer.”

“Yeah, right, okay.” Darcy snorted, “Just a customer who calls you _Legs_.”

“He calls you _Cookie_ ,” Loki gave her a dry look. “That doesn’t mean you know him.”

“It means I know him _now_ ,” She contested. Loki sighed in exasperation.

“Well you know him about as much as I do then.” He scratched at a particularly sticky food stain with his nail, grimacing.

“Does Jane know?”

“Does Jane know _what?_ ”

Darcy made an impatient noise. “Does she know that you’re _flirting_ with the ‘the hunkiest scientific mind of the century’?”

Loki stopped scrubbing to give Darcy a long, skeptical look. “Which magazine did _that_ come from?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Loki huffed. “I’m not sure why you’re under the impression Jane and I chit-chat.” Loki returned to his mugs, with a scowl. “She is far too nosy for her own good.”

“You’re not still mad about her slapping you, are you?” Darcy set a dry mug up in the cabinet. “You were being a dick to Thor. What did you expect her to do?”

“Thor can defend himself without Jane coming to his rescue.” Loki set a mug down for her with unnecessary force.

“It was _one time_ …”

“Your stance on _excessive violence_ aside,” Loki cut her off. “I’m still not sure why you believe we would chat. Particularly about my flirtations.”

“Ah-ha!” Darcy exclaimed, thrusting her hand towel at him victoriously. “So it _is_ a flirtation then! I fucking knew it!”

“Those were your words, not mine,” He snapped. He was pointedly not looking at his coworker, but from the corner of his eye he could tell her grin was gleeful.

“I’m telling Jane,” she announced.

“Why would Jane care?” Loki rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t she have an ill-contrived thesis paper to construct? She barely has time for Thor, let alone your gossip.”

“She’ll make time for this,” Darcy promised cheerfully. She had already abandoned her towel in favor of her phone, punching out a rapid fire text. Loki rolled his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on.

“Do what you want,” he said, setting a clean mug pointedly just by her elbow.

“Twenty bucks says he asks you out by the end of the month.”

The statement came so out of nowhere that Loki barked out a surprised laugh, tossing his head back to do so.

“ _Please_ , Lewis,” he said, “You are reading in to this far too deeply.”

But Darcy seemed to take his dismissal as a challenge. She turned to face him squarely, sticking her hand out to shake on it. “Thirty bucks,” she repeated, “says you guys bang before next semester’s over.”

Loki looked at her, a smirk tugging at the very corner of his thin lips. She seemed entirely serious. For a split second, Loki was sorely tempted to take her up on it. It would be a fun game to play, and easy money to win. He turned away to rinse his hands under the faucet, laughing softly again.

“Take your wager to someone else, Lewis.”

He knew the instant the words left his mouth that they were the wrong thing to say.

“Maybe I will, Princess” Darcy said. There was a steely glint in her eye that unsettled Loki deeply. “Maybe I will.”

 

\---

 

The next time Tony came in, he requested that first latte again. Loki made him a cappuccino that smelled like hazelnut instead, and Tony decided to let it slide. The time after that he tried again, and was rewarded with a mocha so rich and bitter he couldn’t be bothered to complain. After a week, Tony decided to try a different tactic entirely.

_Ding!_

“Good morning barkeep,” he said, while Loki shot a glare at the bell on the counter. “I’ll have my usual and a chocolate croissant.”

Loki gave him a look from the corner of his eye, as he counted back change for his current customer. “$5.50 is your change, have a nice day,” he drawled, shutting the register with a loud clang. The woman left with her coffee and Loki turned the full force of his morning scowl on Tony instead.

“I’ve told you before, we take to-go orders at the register.”

Tony rolled his eyes and slid over to the register.

“Someone’s picky this morning. I thought we were past all those tedious details.”

“You were incorrect.” Loki shot back. “Coming in to harass me three times a week does not qualify you for special treatment.”

“Hey, I’ve only come in twice this week.” Tony argued.

“So far.”

“You’re lucky I’m not as picky as you, ‘else I might complain about you constantly getting my order wrong.” Tony warned with an arch of his brow.

Loki made a dismissive noise, but there was a tug at the corner of his mouth that gave away his smirk.

“You can’t prove the order’s wrong. You don’t even know what you’re ordering.” That fact seemed to make him particularly smug, Tony noticed. “I believe that is what we call an empty threat.”

“You are a deeply unsettling person to trust with my food.”

“That doesn’t seem to stop you.”

There was something stress-relieving about Loki’s attitude. At work, Tony was surround by shameless flatterers, jealous old buzzards and occasionally his father – which was no real treat. Only Pepper offered any decent company, and usually she was too busy pressing him with paper work and deadlines to be much of a relief. Flirting with the tall, crabby barista was cathartic in a way Tony hadn’t expected it to be. It was like a game – like working out a puzzle – seeing what would make Loki scowl and what would make him smirk.

Tony loved games of trial and error.

“Tell you what,” Tony started idly poking through the individually wrapped biscotti sitting in the jar on the counter. “You keep supplying me with caffeine, and I’ll think about keeping my silence. How about that usual?”

Loki reached out and hooked a neatly manicured finger over the rim of the biscotti jar, dragging it just out of Tony easy reach.

“You don’t have a usual.”

Tony dropped his idle hands to the counter and shrugged. “Don’t I, though?” Tony raised an eyebrow at him. His hand was creeping casually closer toward the stolen jar. “I ask for the same thing every time, after all.”

Loki arched an eyebrow at him. Just before Tony’s finger tips grazed the jar, Loki twitched it out of the way. “These are for eating, not for fiddling around with.”

“Fine, I’ll take three.” Tony shot him a challenging look. “With my usual, and the croissant.”

After a long moment of deliberation, Loki begrudgingly slid the jar back where it was before. He turned on heel before Tony got the chance to glory in his victory.

“It’s a miracle you’re not diabetic,” he told him, nabbing a cardboard cup from the top of a stack. “The way you approach breakfast is _appalling._ ”

“There’s a veiled compliment hidden in there somewhere.” Tony dragged the jar closer to himself with a smug grin. He went right back to digging through it. “It’s sweet that you’re concerned about my health, Legs.”

“Legs,” Loki repeated in a scathing mutter as he pumped syrup into the bottom of Tony’s cup. Tony surreptitiously went up on tip-toes craning his neck to see. Loki just as casually rolled his hip to the side to block Tony’s view. Tony clinked his teeth in disappointment, turning his attention back to the biscotti jar.

“ _Legs_ ,” Loki said again, sounding frustrated this time. “I think that’s your favorite nickname of them all. Why on earth do you call me _Legs_?” He gave the espresso machine a sharp rap with his knuckles to get it going.

Tony looked up from his selections of individually wrapped treats. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” he said, all his incredulity soaking into his voice and pinching his brow. “Seriously? Have you _seen_ you?”

Loki stopped frothing Tony’s milk and glared at him. Tony winced internally. He hadn’t meant for it to come out like _that._

“What is _that_ supposed to - ?”

“You have freakishly long super-model legs,” Tony blurted, bowling over Loki’s offense. That was probably _not_ the best way to breach the subject. Loki’s venomous expression was quickly replaced by a look of incredulity. Taking this as an improvement, Tony barreled on.

“Seriously, they go on for _miles._ You’re like seven feet tall, and four feet of that is just _leg._ ” He gestured up and down to the long legs in question, incased in close-fitting black slacks. “I noticed. So sue me.”

The expression on Loki’s face slipped into frowning contemplation. He didn’t say a word. Tony wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good sign. He realized, belatedly, that he _might_ have crossed a line here. Loki’s veiled threat about Barton’s sexual harassment policy came to mind as the silence dragged on.

“Seven feet tall,” Loki was giving Tony a blank look. “‘Four feet of leg’. Are those really the closest approximations you have?” His expression was flat, but something in his voice walked right on the edge of _pleased_. “I thought you were an engineer.”

There was a twinkle in Loki’s eye when he said it, and Tony stomach flipped.

“There is a margin for error here.” Tony insisted.

Loki scoffed. “A margin of error for my ‘freakishly long’ legs?”

“Freakishly long _super model_ legs,” Tony corrected. “They are very distracting. It makes it hard to calculate exact measurements.”

A twitch at the corner of Loki’s lip as he prepared the espresso shots spurred Tony onward.

“What do you care if I exaggerate your assets, anyway?” He pinned Loki with a significant look when the man glanced his way. “Just means I think big of you, right?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Oddly – wonderfully – Tony’s cheesy flirtation seemed to do the trick.

Loki _laughed._ Not his usual sardonic snicker, either. This was a genuine _giggle._ It was a soft noise that made is nose scrunch up, his eyes crinkle and a single dimple press into one side of his face. And wow, Loki had _dimples_. How had Tony not noticed that before?

He was caught up in appreciating this sight – and wondering how he could make it happen again – when the door behind the counter swung open. Thor came striding in, a tray balanced in his hands. His apron was tight around the bulk of his shoulders, his hands jammed into bright purple oven mitts. His face was screwed up in concentration as he struggled to balance the platter of pastries.

Tony whistled at him as he entered. “Watch out. Hot stuff, comin’ through.” He cat-called. He slid casually back into an upright position. He hadn’t realized how far he’d been leaning across the counter until Thor arrived.

Thor looked up and beamed when he saw Tony.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark!” He boomed, jovial as he always was. The flour smudged on his face and powdering his hair made him look like some absurd pin-up in a house keeping magazine. “How are you today?”

“All the better now you’re here, big guy.” Tony gushed. “And haven’t I told you to knock it off with the ‘Mr. Stark’ shit? My dad is not _nearly_ as charming as I am. I don’t appreciate the comparison.”

Thor chuckled as he set his burden down on a nearby counter. Loki had composed himself again, and his dimple sadly vanished as he snatched up a lid and popped it on Tony’s drink. When he spoke again, his words were perfunctory and snappish once more.

“He ordered a chocolate croissant,” He idly spun Tony’s drink with his wrist, mixing the contents. “Get it for me while you have the display open. Please.” He added the last word as a reluctant after thought.

Thor seemed to think nothing of Loki’s stiffness. He knelt down to open the display case, yanking one of his hands out of its oven mitt to do so. Loki set the fresh latte down in front of him on the counter.

“Your usual, Mr. Stark.” His voice had a mocking edge to it. When Tony looked, ‘Mr. Stark’ was also scrawled on the top of his coffee cup in Loki’s spidery writing. As usual, there was nothing written besides the name; no boxes checked or abbreviations marked down to give Tony a hint at the cup’s contents. Tony scowled at him.

“You are lucky your coffee’s so good,” Tony warned, reaching out to cup his fingers around the warm cardboard. “Otherwise I might not put up with all your sass.”

Loki’s lip curled. “I thought you liked my sass.”

“That was before I realized ‘sass’ was your default state of being,” Tony lifted his latte close to his face and took a long sniff. He thought he caught the soft smell of orange in the mix and his mouth watered. It smelled _heavenly._

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Loki said airily.

From his place by the display case, Thor snorted.

“I think it’s a good way to put it,” he said, sliding his pastries onto the shelf.  He craned his neck around to look around at his lanky co-worker, grinning.

Loki frowned at him a little petulantly. “No one asked your opinion.”

Once again, Thor paid no mind to Loki’s cattiness. “You've always been that way. I remember that time you got suspended for back talking the principal at an assembly?” He chuckled at the memory. “For a whole two weeks too. Father was so –”

Thor stopped speaking suddenly, his smile vanishing from his face, replaced by a strange look of guilt. He glanced at Loki to see his co-worker had gone stock still, a stormy look on his face.

“I mean. Uh…”

“Odin was unhappy with me.” Loki’s voice was stiff, edged with a tension Tony had never heard before. “It was nothing particularly noteworthy. He was often that way.”

“Loki, that’s not – ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up here a sec,” Tony interrupted, holding up a hand to stem the conversation. “I’m lost. You guys knew each other as kids?”

Tony didn’t know Loki’s shoulders could get any stiffer. The barista’s his mouth went tight and he said nothing.

Thor answered instead. “Of course.” He said, sounding faintly bemused. “We’re brothers.”

Tony _stared_ at him. “Brothers.” He glanced blankly between the two baristas, waiting for the punch line. When none came, Tony’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You guys are _actually_ brothers?”

“Yes.”

“Not actually.”

The answers came simultaneously. Thor flinched as if Loki had struck him. Loki looked at no one, busying himself with wiping down the counter.

 “Loki, that’s…” the blonde began in a wounded sort of voice.

“Accurate.” Loki’s tone was crisp it brooked no argument. Thor shut his mouth instantly.

Tony’s mind was a whirl as he took them both in. He didn’t think he’d ever seen two people who looked _less_ like siblings. Thor was all solid muscle where Loki was lithe limbs, all blonde beard and square-jawed charm where Loki was sarcasm and sharp, clean angles.  _Jesus,_ Tony thought weakly.  _What did their parents_ feed _them? Miracle Grow?_

There was a distinctly awkward pause. Tony didn’t pretend to know what was going on, but he was sure he got the gist. He was equally sure this wasn’t a conversation either of the brothers meant to have in public. The tension between them was palpable, and Tony could tell at a glance that neither one was going to break it anytime soon.

Tony had never dealt well with awkward silences.

“Orange cream.”

Both baristas looked up at him then. Loki blinked, his expression flinty. “I’m sorry, what?” he snapped.

“Today’s usual. It’s an orange cream latte.” Tony pressed, undeterred. He tipped his coffee cup up in Loki’s direction.

Loki was clearly taken aback. “How can you … you haven’t even taken a sip yet.”

“Of course not, that would ruin the fun.” He scoffed, as if this were all very obvious. “Go on, tell me I’m wrong.”

Loki stared at him for a moment more. Then his lip twitched, just once.

“You’re not wrong.” He admitted.

“Ah-ha! Yes!” Tony slapped an open palm on the counter. “Score one for - !”

“But you’re not right either.” Loki continued in a casual drawl.

“What? That’s not even fair!” Tony complained. “I smelled it! How can I be right _and_ wrong?”

“Taste it if you doubt me.” Loki draped the towel in his hand over his shoulder, the hint of smugness in his voice. The tension had mostly leaked out of shoulders when he turned away.

“I’m going on break.” He told Thor. He didn’t look at him when he said it, but his voice had lost its dangerous edge. “Handle the counter. Mr. Stark still needs his croissant.” He pressed through the door to the back room, tossing Tony barely a glance as he disappeared.

Thor let out a long sigh as the door swung shut behind his brother. He had a forlorn look on his face Tony had only seen on particularly pathetic puppies.

“I’m – uh – sorry about…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said automatically, brushing Thor’s apology hurriedly away. “It’s cool. We’ve all got family stuff. Sometimes our family stuff happens in the workplace.” Tony shrugged, drumming his fingers on his cup. “Been there done that, believe me.”

Thor made a brave attempt at a smile as be reached into the pastry case with a pair of tongs. He pulled out a croissant stuffed with chocolate and shoved it in a paper bag. “He’ll be mad at me for bringing it up in front of a regular.” He admitted, guilty all over again. “Please, the next time you come in…”

“My lips are sealed,” Tony promised. “Scouts honor.”

"But I gotta ask,” Tony said, voice low just in case Loki could hear them in the back room. “What’s with the whole ‘yes but no’ thing?”

An uncomfortable look passed over Thor’s face. He hesitated, shooting a nervous glance at the door. “He is adopted.” He said shortly, looking away to close the case rather than meeting Tony’s eyes.

Ah ha. Well _that_ made a whole lot more sense, at least from a genetics point of view. But it also raised about a dozen more questions. He tried to shake away the itch of curiosity. Who was he to pry into someone’s family baggage? God knows what he’d do if someone did that to _him_.

Holding his tongue, Tony raised his cup and finally took a long sip of his coffee. The bitter, heavy flavor was rounded out by a tang of sweetness, and Tony heard himself make a soft, involuntary noise at the back of his throat.

“ _Chocolate_ ,” he practically sighed. “Fuck, it’s not a latte it’s a _mocha_.” He took another long swig and felt the caffeine rush from his belly to his fingers tips. “Jesus Christ, that’s good.”

He pointed at Thor, his expression deadly serious.

“When your brother is done being pissy, be sure to tell him he’s a technical bastard.”

Thor, bless him, nodded with a similarly grave expression.

“I’ll be sure to pass on your sentiments, Mr. Stark.” His blue eyes twinkled with just a hint of humor.

Tony decided that maybe sass was a family trait.

 


	2. Hey Baby, wha’cha gotta say (all your giving me is fiction)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer:** I still don't own any of these characters. If I _did_ work for Marvel, a Darcy Lewis would get a cameo in every movie. 
> 
> **Song credit: 'Are You Gonna be my Girl?' by Jet**

Tony never brought up the ‘brother’ incident again. Out of politeness or discomfort, Loki wasn’t sure.

As the weeks passed, they fell into a sort of pattern. Loki refused to consider it a routine. Three mornings a week, around the time when the early rush died into lazy pre-lunch hours, Tony would arrive through the jingling doors. Every time, no matter what Loki was doing, Tony would stride over to the counter, sit down, and ring the bell for service.

“I swear to god, Stark –”

“What? I’m just doing what the sign says! See, ‘ring for service’, it’s written right there.”

“It is a _suggestion_ , not a rule.”

Tony paid attention to the bell, but completely ignored the menu. Instead, he would always demand his usual. The fact that he had never clarified what his ‘usual’ should be mattered little. A usual became whatever Loki fancied making him on that particular day. Some days he made Tony mochas so thick they looked like hot chocolate. Other days he set him up with smokey dark roasts, brewed strong and rich. On days he was feeling particularly creative, he’d concoct frothy, spiced cappuccinos or flavored lattes. He never let Tony know what he was getting before he tasted it, no matter how the man would lean and sigh and go on tip-toes to see. When he proceeded to make loud, pleasured noises over his creations, Loki thought that maybe this routine had _some_ merits.

But even as Loki grew accustomed to the routine, Tony started breaking it.

It was late on a Wednesday afternoon and the coffee shop was quiet, save for the two chatty old men at the corner table. Loki’s shift had turned long and tediously lazy, as it often did around dinner time. He was busying himself as he often did on slow days; fiddling with the music and fixing himself a coffee. They had just gotten pumpkin spice in for the season, and Loki was determined to be the first to try it before he could grow sick of making them. He was just in the middle of steaming the milk, debating the pros and cons of sprinkling cinnamon vs. nutmeg on top, when the sound of the bell made him jump.

_Ding!_

“A little service here?  This place is going to the dogs!”

His hand jerked and he hissed when hot coffee slopped over his fingers. He hurriedly set the cup down, wiping damp fingers off on his apron with a curse. He turned around, glare in place, until he caught sight of who was speaking.

“What in god’s name...” he began taking Tony in as his eyebrows climbed to his visor. He wasn’t entirely sure where to look first.

He had only ever seen Tony dressed in suits and ties. Once or twice the man had come in with his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, in what Loki could only assume was fit of rebellion against his company’s dress code. It turned out a small amount of forearm didn’t prepare Loki for the reality of Tony Stark in a _tank top_.

The shirt was old and ratty and fit tightly over his chest, as if Tony had bought it when he was scrawnier and never thought to replace it. His arms were bare, flecked with grease and entirely corded with muscle. _All_ of him was corded with muscle, actually. Nothing like Thor’s bulging athlete’s muscles; Tony’s arms were for obviously for work, not play. Loki found he had to tear his eyes away from _that_ sight a little reluctantly. He blinked and forced himself to take notice of the other details of Tony’s ensemble.

“What _have_ you been rolling in?” He said finally, approaching the counter now that the initial surprise had passed.

Tony did indeed give the impression of a proud dog who’d found a puddle of mud. Loki’s eyes roved up and down to take it all in. His hair was a tangled nest on his head, while his face was an elaborate art piece of grease and sweat. Dark flecks of what Loki assumed was motor oil speckled him head to toe, staining Tony’s hands and wrists almost entirely. In place of his sunglasses, he had what appeared to be a pair of work goggles strapped absentmindedly on top of his head. He had clearly been wearing said goggles up until just recently, since his eyes and the skin around them were the only parts of him still clean. The whole thing gave Tony the distinct look of some mad scientist. All that was missing was the lab coat.

It was - unsettlingly - a very good look for him.

Tony’s eyes were bright, his grin wide and slightly manic and he answered him.

“Never mind that. Better question: how much caffeine can you legally put in a cup?” he settled himself down on a stool, leaning his arms on Loki’s counter and fidgeting in place. “Whatever you answer is, that’s what I want.” His fingers left little smudges wherever they touched. Loki wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“You are making a mess,”

“I’m pretty sure I _am_ a mess, right now.” Tony reasoned back, as if that justified it.

“You couldn’t have at least _showered_ before you came out in public?”

“I could have,” Tony agreed. “I didn’t though. So about my usual…?”

Loki bit the inside of his cheek, leveling Tony a look before he swished over to the espresso machine.

“If you promise not to touch anything, I will be more inclined to spoil you with extra caffeine.”

Tony grinned. “Don’t touch anything,” he agreed, removing his hands from the counter top instantly, holding them up in the air in a sign of good faith. “Done.” He twiddled his fingers in the air. The action made him look absurdly childish in a way Loki definitely did _not_ find endearing. He pressed a few buttons on the espresso machine, getting two streams going at once.

“What are you even doing here?” Loki asked as he nabbed a large cup to scrawl a name on.

Tony pulled a face at him. “Well, I was under the impression I was here to order coffee,” he shot back. “What, do you guys not do that now, or – ”

“I mean, what are you doing here _now_?” Loki cut him off. “You never show your face after noon.”

“Hm, I wasn’t aware you paid such close attention to my visits,” Tony waggled his eyebrows at him. “Careful, Legs. I might start to think you’re getting sweet on me.”

Loki didn’t grace that with a response.

“I’m working,” Tony finally answered. “Gotta keep it up if I wanna get it done. But if I stay in the lab too long I start talking to the robots, and Pepper says that’s frowned upon in civilized society.” Tony shrugged. “So, coffee break.”

“Working?” Loki repeated, openly dubious. “They let you into an _office_ like that?”

Tony made a sound like a huff. “Who says I’m working outta my office, Mr. Clean?”

 He leaned on the counter with his grease-stained elbows, ignoring Loki’s scowl.  Loki considered prying further – finding out where Tony was coming from if not the Stark building - but he restrained himself. He eyed the man as he steamed the milk, watching him pick at a tiny hole in his tank top, right where it pulled taut over his firm tummy. He cleared his throat.

“Do tell me, what’s the story behind the whole… ” He gestured vague to Tony, up and down, “homeless get up.” He pumped syrup – peppermint and vanilla today – into Tony’s cup, his body angled so the man couldn’t peek around him

“Trying to start a trend? Or is ‘Mechanic Chic’ just _in_ this season?”

 “It’s _‘Engineering_ chic’, technically,” Tony corrected.

“Of course, my mistake.” Loki granted. “Is it the latest fad for engineers to walk around in underclothes covered in motor oil.”

“Only the hot ones,” Tony said, in mock serious tones. “We’re the only ones who can pull it off. If anyone else does it they just look _crazy._ ” When he grinned his teeth stood out starkly what against the ruddy mess of his face.

 _Oh._ Loki stomach gave a little swoop. He snickered, turning carefully away to distract himself with finishing Tony’s latte. “That would explain why I am doubting your sanity, I suppose.” He drawled, capping the cup finally.

“Ouch,” Tony hissed, wincing dramatically. “Careful on the ego, Legs, it’s all I have.”

“I think it will endure.” He answered, sliding the finished latte across the counter. When Tony grasped for it eagerly. Loki kept his hand gripped tight around it, and raised an eyebrow. “Ah-ah. That’ll be $3.50.” With his other hand he made a short ‘pay up’ gesture with his fingers.

Tony shot Loki a dirty look, sighing impatiently. He plunged his filthy hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crumpled ten.

“Leech. Here.” He slapped it down on Loki’s open palm, leaving finger prints on both the bill and Loki’s skin. Loki made a disgusted noise.

“That is repulsive,” he said, pinching the bill delicately as he released the cup at last. Tony took the opportunity to snatch it out of Loki’s reach. Loki wiped his hand off on his apron as he made change. 

“Oh, please, your Highness, it’s just a little oil and motor lubricant.” Loki glowered at him as he shoved him his change.

“What on earth are you making that requires you to get this filthy?”

Tony held up a finger as he took a long, luxurious gulp of his latte. He pulled away from the cup with sigh.

“Damn, that’s good. Minty. Mm.”

He took a moment to lick his lips and take another sip before he answered.

“Don’t go thinking you can bribe Stark Industries secrets out of me with coffee,” he said with a mock serious look. “For all I know, you could be a Hammer Industries spy in disguise.”

Loki snorted. “Do companies actually _do_ that? I thought that was only in movies.” He thought briefly of how enthralled Darcy would be about this information.

“You’d be surprised.” Tony answered cryptically with a tip of his cup

“Would I?” he said, vaguely interested. A wicked little thought occurred to him. He looked briefly around the mostly-empty shop before leaning against the counter, and waiting Tony take another drink from his cup.

“I am actually an android, sent to assassinate you.” He said in a hushed, entirely deadpan voice.

Objective achieved. Tony snorted so badly he choked on a mouthful of coffee. He sputtered messily for a moment, dripping coffee on himself as he quelled his laughter. He would have new stains on the shirt now; a fact that gave Loki an odd sense of satisfaction. Tony recovered a second later, coughing and wiping his grinning mouth.

“See, you joke about that,” He insisted while he tried to catch his breath. “But that is actually thing. He called it the ‘Hammer Drone’. Google it sometime, it’s _hilarious._ ”

Tony’s phone buzzed. He grimaced as he wiped his hands - now sticky with coffee - off on his filthy jeans before he wrestled it out of his pocket. It hardly mattered, as his finger left a long smudged on the screen anyway. Whatever it said brought an intent look of concentration to his face.

“System’s ready to load, I better head back.” He slid off his stool without looking up from his phone. Loki straightened once more. The pleased grin Tony’s laughter had elicited slid into a more neutral smirk by the time the engineer looked back up.

“Back to your robots friends and filth, then.” He drawled.

“I figured you’d understand, since you’re apparently one of my robots friends.”

“Oh, no.” Loki corrected. “I am one of _Hammer’s_ robot friends. Do get the story right.”

“Right. Assassin.” Tony nodded grimly. “Does he have a usual too, then?”

“He’s not nearly so demanding as you. Much better customer.”

“I doubt that.” He was torn between grinning at Loki and typing furiously on his phone as he backed up toward the door.

“Later then, Hal.” He said with a salute as he pushed his way out the jingling doors; thankfully not touching the glass with his filthy hands.

The moment he was gone, Loki looked down at the state of his counter. It was smeared with various finger prints and flecked with coffee splatter. Somewhere along the way, Stark had apparently forgotten their ‘no touching’ agreement. Loki had been too distracted to call him on it. He huffed in exasperation, grinding his teeth as he dumped out his abandoned pumpkin latte. He snatched up the Windex and cranked up the iPod to a level that made the old men frown. He ignored them as focused on making the counter shine again.

 

\---

 

_/A-one, two, three! Take my hand and come with me, because you look so fine, and I really wanna make you mine!/_

Pepper Potts had known Tony Stark for a while. Working with him, dating him and ultimately breaking up with him had given her a pretty good perspective on his emotional range. She could recognize when he was putting on a show and when he was being sincere. She could tell when he was happily absorbed in his work and when he was just using it as a distraction. He had certain tells – little hints dropped involuntarily or otherwise – that could always clue Pepper in when he was preoccupied by something.

He was also a complete and total slob.

“Jesus, this place is a pigsty!” Pepper stepped gingerly around a balled-up towel and several opened boxes of parts to get through the door. The sound system was blaring so loudly in Tony’s workshop, it was doubtful he’d even heard her come in.  Pepper watched him, hunched over his worktable, goggles and gloves in place as he fiddled with something small that sparked intermittently. Pepper cleared her throat and the sound was lost in a guitar rift. She sighed in exasperation.

/ _Big black boots, long brown hair, she’s so sweet with her get back stare! -/_

“Jarvis!” She half-shouted.

“Yes, Ms. Potts?” The cool, British voice of Tony’s personal computer responded to her loud and clear over the weight of the music. True to form, Tony didn’t pick his head up from his work.

“Jarvis, could you mute this please?”

“Right away Ms. Potts.”

/ _But you were with another maa-/_

The music went silent, and Tony finally turned his face away from his work. “Hey, traitor!” He shouted in the direction of the nearest speaker. He looked around at the sound of Pepper’s heels clinking against the floor tile. “No girls allowed,” he declared, pointing the butt end of a screwdriver her at her for emphasis. “Super-secret science in progress. Didn’t you read the sign?”

“What sign?”

“The one on the door.”

“There wasn’t any sign on the door.”

Tony peeled his goggles off to glare at the robotic arm next to him.

“Dummy you had one job.” He held up one finger while the bot clicked and whirred at him. “What did you do with it, huh? I worked hard on that sign.”

The robot arm slumped, dejected.

“Go to your charging station you glorified claw-machine.” The robot whirred sadly away. Pepper was fairly sure she could see torn paper caught up in its wheel tracks.

“Great, now I’m gonna have to pick all that out.” Tony slumped down into the chair behind him with a sigh.

“You’ve been chatting with the robots again.” She pointed out, setting her folder on the clearest space of desk she could find.

“They get lonely, Pep! What would you have me do, neglect them? That’s bad parenting.”

“Wow, I _really_ don’t think I’m qualified to comment on that statement.”

Tony scoffed while Pepper pulled a few packets of paper out of her folder. “I just need you to sign these and then you can go back to your man cave.”

Tony gave the packet a dubious look. “They need me to sign it? Why do they need _me_ to sign it?”

“You’re the Junior Assistant to the CEO,” Pepper reminded him patiently. “And the heir to the company. They’re going to need your input from time to time.”

“Junior Assistant my ass.” Tony yanked off one of his gloves with his teeth and reached out for the papers with his freed hand. He let the glove drop from his mouth to the table. “What a bullshit position. Since when do I ‘assist him’ in anything?” 

Pepper handed him a pen. “I’ve marked the places for you. I’d strongly suggest you at least read pages four and seven.

He made a vague noise of agreement as he flipped through the pages, squinting at the text. His eyes looked tired.

“Have you taken a break at all today?” Pepper asked, leaning her hip against the side of his desk. She hoped dearly she wouldn’t walk away with oil stains on her skirt again.

“I went to get a coffee at lunch” He answered immediately.

“Have you eaten anything _besides_ coffee today?”

“What are you, my personal dietitian now?” He signed a page instead of looking at her.

Pepper crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “I’d just like to make sure you’ve been doing something other than _this_ for the last three days.” She gestured vaguely to the mess around the room. “You need to take breaks, Tony.”

“Hey, I’ve been taking breaks!” Tony insisted, waving his fingers in her direction. “I stopped and worked on my cars two days ago. And then I even went out in public. That counts as a break, right?”

“Have you been sleeping?” She pressed, her eyes falling on the pillow and blanket tossed haphazardly over the couch in the corner. “Because it’s starting to look like you’ve moved in here.”

“Pep, you’ll know when I’ve stopped sleeping. We both know I’m not at that point yet.” He flipped another page in the packet, scrawling his signature on the line. “Anyway, I’ll have you know I’ve been at the penthouse every day this week.”

Pepper refrained from asking ‘for how long?’ She suspected he’d start going home just for showers and clean clothes at some point.

She knew the signs well enough. When Tony had told her that Howard had accepted his project proposal for the review, Pepper knew this was big. Tony might have the company name, and one of the highest positions at the industry, but that had afforded him astoundingly few opportunities to actually apply his skills. Sure, he had the freedom to fiddle around with any pet-project that he might want, but that didn’t mean Howard would recognize it professionally. He hadn’t elected to comment when Tony had made headlines with Jarvis. He didn’t give Tony any special treatment, any particular consideration or praise. The fact that he had accepted his idea for review was more recognition than Tony had received from him in almost ten years.

Pepper had reason to expect Tony might get a little obsessed.

She sighed, glancing around the room while Tony’s pen scratched away on paper. Every surface of the lab was covered in clutter; tools and blueprints and various containers.

“What’s with all the coffee cups?” She asked suddenly. She could count at least six or seven coffee cups from where she stood, each abandoned amidst the usual chaos that was Tony’s work space.

Tony glanced up briefly from skimming page four. “Caffeine helps me think, you know that.”

“I do know that, yes. That’s not what I’m questioning here.” She picked the nearest cup delicately. “I’m questioning how a grown man can’t seem to throw out a single cup he empties.” She rattled the empty back and forth and arch an eyebrow in his direction.

“I was going to get to that,” Tony protested. “Eventually.” He glanced between her expression and the cup in her hand. “Uh, clutter motivates me?” he tried feebly.

Pepper was unimpressed. “I’m about to un-motivate you, then.” She grabbed the rim of the nearby trash bid and dropped the empty cup in. He carried it beside her as she moved to retrieve the other cups.

“Aw, c’mon!” Tony complained loudly behind her. She paid him no mind grabbing another cup and tossing it away. “Quit mothering and smothering me, Pepper! I’m a big boy now!”

“You certainly don’t act like it,” Pepper replied, but there was more tired affection to her words than actual animosity.

Tony was grumbling something under his breath while Pepper made her way about the room. She was careful not to disturb anything important-looking as she retrieved the rubbish from each table.

“How long have you been hoarding some of these? God, Tony this is just gross.”

She plucked one up and noticed the name scrawled on the side. _Needy Bastard_ was written in neat spidery script. Pepper frowned and checked another one. _Doctor Frankenstein_ was scrawled across a particularly dirty one, the sides pockmarked with Tony’s oily finger prints. A third one simply read _Mr. Stark,_ but the one beside it was artfully addressed to _The asshole who can’t wait his turn._  Pepper’s brow furrowed, curiously.

“Where have you been getting these again?” She asked out loud, rotating the current cup in her hand to find the logo. _Barton’s Beans_ , it read.

“Little place across town,” Tony said casually.

“The same place you’ve been taking your obnoxiously long lunches?” She glanced at the name on the last cup, _Our Local “Celebrity”_ , a small smile tugging up her lips. She made her way back in Tony’s direction, cup still in hand.

“It’s kind of my thing now, Pep.” Tony said, not looking up from the last page of the packet, twiddling the pen in his fingers. “If you’re nice and don’t touch my stuff, maybe I’ll share it with you.”

“Uh-huh,” Pepper’s heels clinked pointedly against the titled floor as he made her way over, putting the trash back where it had been. “Will I get to see it before or _after_ you sleep with this barista?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“That is…thus far undetermined.”

Tony was looking up at her now, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Pepper hummed considering and arched an eyebrow, clinking her nail just once again the last cup before tossing it away with the rest of them. Tony watched the motion, one side of his mouth quirking upward.

“Have I ever told you you’re a deeply frightening woman?” He finished signing the last page with a flourish, flipping the packet closed and handing it back to Pepper.

Pepper took it graciously, her own smile soft and amused as he nabbed the pen as well. “Many times.” She clicked the pen shut and slid the papers back into her folder, satisfied. “Do me a favor?” She asked, reaching out to brush a hand affectionately over Tony’s mess of brown hair. “I don’t care if you’re sleeping alone or sleeping with the coffee maker down the street, but make sure you get some sleep this week.”

“Sure thing, boss-lady.” It was a nickname Tony had given her sometime when they’d been dating. It had taken almost a year after the break up before he started using it again – like a peace offering between them. It still made Pepper smile.

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?” She asked, pulling her hand away from his hair. He grinned back at her.

“That’ll be all, Miss Potts.”

Pepper was almost to the door when Tony ordered Jarvis to ‘hit it’. The music began booming again through the speakers, right where it left off.

_/ -aaan, yeahh! I know we ain’t got, much to say - /_

Pepper rolled her eyes. Tony would do whatever he wanted to, like he always had. Pepper would just have to make sure he didn’t drop dead of exhaustion in the process. She could ready Tony like a book. She knew when he had he’d gotten his mind set on something, for better or for worse.

It was nice to know he had _something_ on his mind other than work.

_/I said, are you gonna be my girl?/_

 

**\---**

Loki was not a sentimental person.

When he left Odin’s house he hadn’t taken much with him. His personal effects, clothes and a few necessities. He mourned abandoning his books, but he’d never felt particularly nostalgic about the room he’d grown up in, nor did he covet any old photographs. He missed his mother most. Storming out on Frigga had been the hardest part of leaving home. He could still picture how she’d looked: Tears in her eyes that she didn’t let fall, her hair a tumble of blond ringlets and her voice trembling as she called after him. Loki had already been halfway out the door, too wrought with fury and spite for his mother’s voice to make a dent. He had given her a curt promise to call before he slammed the door behind him.

Guilt and shame got the better of him later. He hadn’t called, not for a very long time after that.

Since then, Loki had been practical about the company he kept. Besides his co-workers - with whom social interaction was inevitable - he kept very few friends. People earned his respect rarely and lost his attention quickly. His ‘love life’ boiled down to a mish mash of hook-ups and one-night stands of convenience. He had no patience for a relationship. He didn’t grow attached, didn’t stick around, and _certainly_ didn’t call. It was better to leave sex as sex. Feelings were a complication.

Tony Stark was becoming a complication.

 “You look terrible.” Loki said when the door jingled at Barton’s Beans late one evening. The place had emptied for the night, and Loki had long since abandoned his uncomfortable visor. With nothing else to do, he had pulled chair behind the counter and settled himself down with a book. He craned his chair back on two legs to watch Tony slump through the door. Even from here, Loki could see had heavy bags forming under his eyes.

“You always say such sweet things,” Tony dropped into a stool by the counter with a sigh and began popping open the buttons of his jacket. The warm days had already begun turning into crisp nights. Tony was halfway through slipping the jacket off his shoulders when he stopped and seemed to notice the empty shop.

“Are you closing?” He asked, looking genuinely befuddled. “Am I the only one here? Fuck, how late…?”

“In an hour,” Loki clarified. He glanced pointedly up at the clock on the wall. Tony followed his gaze and squinted at it. “We stay open till ten on week nights now. For the college crowd.”

“Huh,” Tony finished staring down the clock and tossed his jacket carelessly over the stool beside him. He leaned his elbows on the table and scrubbed a hand over his face with a small groan.

 Loki frowned, marking his place in his book and setting it aside. “What is the matter with you?”

 “Fuck, this headache,” Tony whined. “It’s the caffeine withdrawal.” He told Loki while he rubbed his tired eyes. “Haven’t been able to make a cup all day, and Pepper won’t let me binge on Monster after what happened last time.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair absentmindedly, leaving it sticking up at all angles.

Loki itched to brush it flat for him.

“I hear that sleep can do wonders for people. You should try that sometime.” He smirked when Tony made a cranky noise into his hands.

“You mock my pain,” his voice was deliberately petulant now, and he glared at Loki balefully through his fingers. “See if I ever tip you again.”

“You’ve never tipped me before,” Loki pointed out.

Tony grumbled something about ‘details’, his fingers rubbing circles into his temples. He made a pretty pathetic picture. While he was busy muttering under his breath, Loki got the machine running and filled a tiny espresso cup.

“Do you always whine this way, or am I just special?” He asked.

Tony responded by flipping him off with his eyes squeezed shut.

Loki clicked his tongue. “I really shouldn’t spoil you, if that’s how you behave.” He grabbed Tony’s wrist and peeled one of his hands away from his head to press the warm cup of espresso into his palm.

“Drink.” He demanded, pulling his fingers away quickly once Tony had a grip.

Tony whimpered when he registered the steaming little cup in his hand. He tossed the whole shot back in one go, smacking his lips and sighing.

“God, I revoke my gesture. Please keep spoiling me.” The look he directed at Loki was warm and appreciative, and did funny things to Loki’s pulse. He cleared his throat.

“I assume you’ll be wanting a large tonight, considering your delicate condition?” He reached out a pulled a cardboard cup off the top of a stack without waiting for an answer.

“For here, please.”

Loki paused mid-motion. “What?”

“I’m at the counter, aren’t I?” Tony’s face was now cradled in his hands, his usual smug smile on his face. “I thought you only took to-go orders at the register?” He pointed over at the register and arched an eyebrow.

Loki’s gave him a scathing look, but Tony seemed unfazed. “I need a break from the lab,” He went on to explain. “And the office. If I look at another schematic right now, my head might actually catch on fire.”

Loki’s eyebrows twitched upwards. “Are you implying my coffee is all that’s keeping you from spontaneous combustion?”

“Maybe,” Tony said, “That or your sparkling conversation, Legs. We just don’t know.” He grinned flirtatiously, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

Loki heart was doing something funny in his chest. _Shit_. This was stupid. Tony was a flirt. Tony had dawdled at the counter _plenty_ of times. There was nothing to read into here. Business as usual.

 _Except he’s choosing to stay this time_ , a voice that sounded very much like Darcy’s teased him. _With you. Aloneee._

“Well then,” Loki took pains to keep his expression neutral as he slid the cardboard cup back on to the top of the stack. “I suppose if I’m doing a public service.”

Tony snorted as Loki turned to the back counter to nab clean mug. He kept his tiny grin hidden as he poured the milk into the steamer. “But I’m kicking you out at quarter-of. I’ve got cleaning to do, and I’m not your personal entertainment just because you’re lonely.”

 “Right,” Tony scoffed again behind him. “Because you were so busy _cleaning_ when I came in.”

“Don’t push your luck, Stark.”

“Does Barton leave you to handle the 9 o’clock rush on your own?” He gestured lazily at all the empty chairs and tables. “Seems like an _awful_ lot for one person to handle.”

“I believe I’m up to the challenge.”

He nabbed a shaker of ground cinnamon and shook a portion into the steamer cup. A cinnamon latte was something he hadn’t tried on Tony yet, and it was easier than dealing with syrups sticking to a mug he’d have to wash. He added a teaspoon of sugar as well, fully aware of Tony sweet tooth.

“Darcy requested Monday and Wednesday nights off. She has an early class in the morning.” He left the milk to heat and flipped the espresso maker back on.

“Oh, Cookie goes to MU?”

Loki gave a non-committal shrug of agreement. “Political science major, or something like that.”

“Oh yuck,” Loki turned in time to catch Tony wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Political science is a mess. Technology and engineering is where it’s at.”

“Not that you’re bias.”

“Never. A scientist is always completely objective in his observations.”

“I’m sure.”

When the milk had frothed correctly, took it off the heat whipped it into a sweet-smelling foam. He could feel Tony’s eyes on him as he worked, but he didn’t give into temptation to look up.

“What about you?”

“ _What_ about me?” Loki asked.

“What was your major?” Tony had picked his head off his hand and was looking at him straight on now.

Uh oh. “I don’t believe I ever mentioned attending college.” Loki sidestepped easily.

“ _You_ didn’t, no,” Tony agreed. “But Cookie did, that one time. She said you used to go to there.” He jerked his thumb in the vague direction of Marvel University down the street. Loki bit the inside of his cheek in frustration.

“Well ‘Cookie’ talks too much.” He said shortly. Loki was not over-eager to reminisce about his college history, particularly not with the uncomfortable incident with Thor still fresh in his memory.

“That’s no fair! You know what I went to school for.”

“Your college experience was well-documented in the media.” Loki pointed out. “I think I’m allowed that knowledge.”

“See, that makes it even less fair,” Tony complained. “You know plenty about me and I know almost nothing about you.” Tony leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes twinkling gold in the overhead lights. “I think we need to even out the playing field here.”

Loki glanced up from the delicate process of creating Tony’s latte to arch an eyebrow. “Do we now?”

“What, you don’t agree?”

Loki made a non-committal noise, pouring the last of his milk foam into Tony’s cup to top off his design: and simple floral pattern rippled into the top layer of foam. Satisfied with it, Loki set the steamer pot aside. “I find it amusing you think we’re on a playing field at all.” He said to Tony.

Tony makes a blatantly disbelieving noise. “Or maybe you just like having the home-field advantage.”

Loki didn’t grace that with a response. He picked up the mug and turned, holding it perfectly steady so as not to slop foam down over sides. Tony eyes were still on him, warm and amused and inexplicably golden.

“Perhaps I could be convinced to trade you for information.” Loki carefully set the wide cup down on the counter. He didn’t take his hand off the handle.

“Oh, intel for intel,” Tony’s interest was piqued. “Nice strategy. Are you withholding the latte too?”

“Perhaps.”

“You’re a cruel man.” Tony’s grin curled up more. “Okay, shoot.”

“Why do you come here?” The words slipped out of Loki before he really let himself consider them, but there was no taking them back now. It obviously wasn’t the question Tony had been expecting. His brow furrowed.

“You’re still worrying about that?” he asked incredulously.

“Wondering,” Loki corrected. “You never answered before. There are plenty of places to get coffee between here and Uptown.” Loki shrugged, his face the picture of carefully constructed nonchalance. “Why here?”

Tony opened his mouth to answer, then closed it thoughtfully. His eyes scanned Loki’s face.

“Maybe I just like the atmosphere?” He said, but his tone was unconvincing.

Loki arched an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe you’ve spoiled me for all other coffee places.” He tried again, humor in his eyes.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short! You have a gift here. Starbucks has nothing on you.”

“I find it doubtful that’s reason enough to drive ten minutes out of your way every morning.”

“Well then you don’t know me very well.” Tony countered. Loki made a scoffing noise ready to let it go, when Tony spoke up again.

“Maybe I just come here for the pleasure of your company, Legs.” When Loki looked at him, Tony’s smirk didn’t quite match his eyes. “Ever think of that?”

Loki’s heart skipped wildly and his licked his lower lip – a nervous tick he’d never entirely grown out of. He could feel heat rising up in his neck as he managed a soft snicker.

“Flattery again?” He slid the mug across the table, his eyes still crinkled with mirth. “Careful Stark. That’s going to get you into trouble one day.”

“That sounds promising,” Tony’s voice was warm and low, his eyes dancing. Loki was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were. Both of them were leaning unconsciously over the counter between them, leaving barely a foot of space between their grinning faces. Without meaning to, Loki glanced at Tony’s quirked lips. It would be so easy to lean forward, dip his head down just a bit and press his mouth against them. So _tempting._ So _not_ something he could afford to do.

Tony reached out for his latte, the calloused pads of his fingers just _barely_ over Loki’s knuckles. Loki’s stomach jolted, knocking him back to reality.

“Ah-ah!” He caught Tony’s wrist, and held his hand back away from the mug. He felt Tony’s pulse jump under his fingers.

Brown eyes blinked at him. “I – what…?”

Loki lifted his free hand, palm up, and made a beckoning gesture with his fingers. “That’ll be $3.75.” His voice was low and silky.  Tony’s eyes flicked down to Loki’s mouth for an instant, then back. It seemed to take him a moment to register Loki’s words.

“Oh…oh!”

Tony fumbled in his pocket, yanking out his card and handing it over. Loki took it delicately between two fingers.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Stark.”

Loki heard the man’s breath hitch when he pulled away, his fingers brushing casually over Tony’s wrist as he did. He could feel eyes following him as he sauntered away, gratified. 

"I charged you extra for the art.” Loki informed him, cool as ever.

“The art…?” Tony finally looked down at his mug.

“Wow, holy shit, no wonder that took so long.”

“That better not be a complaint.” Loki warned while Tony’s receipt printed. He tossed it out immediately; Tony was never interested in keeping his receipts.

"God no.” Tony took a deep inhale and sighed over the scent. “Shit, this smells incredible. I’m gonna ruin your work when I drink it.”

“I’ll get over it.”

“Is this what you majored in?” Tony asked suddenly. Loki the abrupt subject change took Loki off guard. He looked over his shoulder to shoot Tony an incredulous look.

“What, coffee design?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “ _Art_ , smartass.”

Loki made a tsking noise with his tongue. “Close.” He admitted cagily.

“Oh, come on!” Tony whined at him as Loki sauntered back over to the counter. “We had I deal! I answered your question. Now it’s your turn.” Tony gave him a pointed look.

Loki sighed in exasperation. “I was a theater major.” He said shortly as he moved to put the milk steamer in the sink.

“A _theater –_ ” 

“Shut up and drink your damn latte.”

“Fine, pushy.” Tony grumbled. He lifted his oversized mug up and tipped it back, taking a long sip.

Maybe the tense moment before was too fresh in his mind, but Loki was not prepared for Tony’s reaction. Tony’s eyes to slid shut and he let out this _noise_ – a low, soft groan of pleasure. Loki’s breath hitched, heat swooping low in his stomach. He caught himself staring at Tony’s Adam’s apple, watching it bob as he swallowed. The whole image was completely showy and excessive and kind of… distracting. Loki bit down on the inside of his cheek and swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat.

 _“Fuck,"_ Tony’s voice was breathy and satisfied.  Loki tried to ignore the shiver that shot down his spine at the sound. “That was – holy shit, how do you even _do_ shit like this?” Tony took another gulp and let out a happy little sigh. Loki had to clear his throat.

“Would you and the latte like a moment alone?” His eyes kept dropping back to Tony’s Adam’s Apple unbidden. He wondered what noises Tony would make if he bit it.

“Mm, maybe just five minutes,” Tony sassed back, the sliver of a smile visible around the rim of the mug. He licked foam off the top of his lip, and Loki’s nearly choked.

“Five minutes granted.” He tore his eyes away, turning back around to wash out the steamer pot. He could feel his pulse in his ears, and he dearly hoped there was no flush visible at the back of his neck. His warm, hazy mood was staring to edge off now, and he felt frustrated with himself. Did Tony know what he was doing? Was he toying with him? He ground his teeth as he rinsed out the small metal pitcher.

“So, a theater major huh?” Tony suddenly spoke up behind him. Loki wasn’t sure if he was relieved or frustrated he had stopped moaning over his mug to press this subject.

“Yes,” he answered. “I got into Marvel U as an accounting major. I switched over into Theater my second semester.”

“Accounting to Theater?” Tony sounded curious now, and Loki could have kicked himself. He should have kept his mouth shut. “Now _that’s_ a change. How the hell did that happen?”

Loki gave a jerky shrug, plucking up one of the used espresso cups to wash it. He needed something to do with his hands. “My father wanted me to major in accounting.” He said stiffly. “I wasn’t interested in the subject.”

“Well let’s be real, who is? _Accounting._ ” Tony made an exaggerated shuttering sound and Loki almost smiled. “It just _sounds_ miserable.”

“Trust me, it is.”

“Theater, though, _that’s_ interesting,” Tony voice had taken on a playful edge Loki wasn’t sure he should be comfortable with. “So you were in plays, then?”

Loki’s lips curled up into a tight smile. “In the theater program you generally participate in plays, yes.” He said dryly.

“What parts did you play?” Tony demanded.

Loki hummed noncommittally. “I’m really not sure you’re entitled to _that_ information.”

“Aw, come on! That’s no fair!”

“How is it not fair? You asked me for my major, and that’s what I told you.”

“You’re withholding.”

“And you’re pushing it, Stark.”

“You could at least tell me what year you graduated.”

Loki flinched. He tried to play it off as a normal movement, but Tony had already seen.

“I dropped out.” He said bluntly before Tony could ask again.

There was an awkward sort of pause. Loki rinsed the espresso cup unnecessarily for the fifth time, refusing to turn around.

When Tony spoke again his voice just curious.

“Really? Why?”

“Financial reasons.” It was the reason he always gave to when people asked him why he’d left school. Simple, understandable, and technically accurate. Even so, he found himself opening his mouth to explain further.

“Odin – my father,” Loki dropped the word distastefully before he carried on. “He wanted me to get my Accounting degree. It’s a good, respectable field, with plenty of job opportunity. It’s what he decided would be _best_ for me.” The bitterness had leaked into his voice now, but there was little he could do about it. “I knew he didn’t think theater was a real major. Certainly not one he was willing to pay for.” Loki clenched his jaw, his grip overly-tight on the small cup in his hands. “So, when I changed my major I didn’t elect to tell him.”

“But he found out?”

“Three years down the road, yes.”

Tony whistled low under his breath. _“Three years_ ,” he said, sounding impressed. “How’d you keep it from him for that long?”

Loki shrugged. “It was easy, really.” _Odin didn’t pay enough attention to notice the difference_ , Loki thought viciously. “Thor and I filed most of our own paper work with the school, Odin just supplied the funding. It never occurred to him I might not follow his rules once I moved away.” Loki still took a wicked sense of satisfaction in that. Pulling the wool over Odin’s eyes, finally breaking away from his expectation…it had felt _wonderful._

Tony didn’t comment on the implications. “So daddy pitched a fit, I get that.” He said. “But he really made you _drop out?_ After three years?”

Loki sighed, grabbing the nearest hand towel and drying his hands as he turned around. “Yes,” he said simply. “He really did.” It had been a cruel paradox. With Odin refusing to pay for schooling, Loki couldn’t afford it on his own. Under Odin’s roof, as his dependent, he didn’t qualify for nearly enough financial aid to make a dent. 

He glared at Tony, as if daring him to judge. “We do not speak so much anymore, Odin and I.”

Tony’s expression was unreadable. “And how is that working out for you?” The words weren’t judgmental or joking. Just an honest question.

Loki barked out a harsh laugh. “I am a twenty-six-year-old college dropout who lives alone and works full time in a coffee shop with his ‘big brother’.” He bit out, a humorless smile on his face. “How does my life appear to be ‘working out’?”

Loki hadn’t meant to let all that slip. He pursed his lips tight, furious with himself. He glared at Tony defiantly, waiting for the blow to fall – for the smart remark to come.

But it didn’t.

“Well, I don’t know about all that.” Tony spoke softly, his unreadable eyes still intent on Loki’s face. There was a smile on his lips, but no hint of humor in his eyes. “I mean, I’ve worked under my dad since I was seventeen,” He shrugged. “I’ve done everything he’s asked of me, and in ten years I’ve never gotten so much as a ‘good job, kid.’”

For a moment, Tony’s mouth twisted into a bitter grimace. It had smoothed out a moment later, but the ghost of it lingered in Tony’s eyes “All I’m saying is, I get how dads fuck things up. And all things considered, Morticia,” Tony mouth quirked up on one side, “at least you’ve told yours off for it.”

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Loki found himself a little speechless. He had expected either half-hearted sympathy or moralizing bullshit - the same as he got from most people.

He hadn’t expected Tony Stark to _get_ him.

“Morticia?” He finally said, while Tony slurped down that last sip of his drink. “As in _'The Addams’ Family?'_ That’s a new one.”

Tony set his empty mug on the counter, licking his lips. Loki did his best not to follow the motion of his tongue. “Yeah, but it suits you, though.” He smirked his old humor returning to his eyes.

“Oh?” Loki said. “How so?”

“Oh, come on,” Tony scoffed. “Tall and dark.” He gestured up and down the length of Loki’s body. “A little morbid. Not too shabby on the eyes.” Tony’s grin turned a little wicked at the end. “That’s you all over, Legs.”

Loki thought he was done feeling ridiculous for the night. He struggled to keep his smirk contained, while warmth shot down his spine again and pooled in his squirming stomach.

“I suppose it’s better than Oscar the Grouch.”

“You are _never_ going to let that go, are you?”

Loki huffed out a small laugh, before he glance over and noticed the time. He cursed softly. “I was supposed to kick you out five minutes ago. I need to close up.” He nabbed Tony’s empty mug and put it in the sink. 

“Whoops,” Tony voice didn’t sound particularly regretful he glanced up at the clock. “Well, I’m kind of the expert at over-staying my welcome at this point.” When Loki turned back around, Tony had gotten up out of his stool and was shrugging his coat on.

“I need to lock the doors by ten,” Loki prompted. “Get out of here, I’d like to make it home before eleven.”

“Or you could come get a drink with me.”

“I – what?” Loki stopped what he was doing, his train of thought completely derailed.

Tony had a peculiar look on his face, somewhere between casual and eager. “Come get a drink with me?” he repeated. “I’ll buy. Least I can do, after how you spoiled me tonight.” He was smiling now, shifting a little on his feet. “My car’s in the lot, but we could walk to the bar down the street.” He shrugged. “Or you know, I could drive to one a bar closer to _my_ end of town. Whatever works.”

The look in his eyes – something promising and playful when he said ‘my end of town’ – made the heat twist low in Loki’s belly.

For a moment, Loki considered it. He thought about the calloused tips of Tony’s fingers over his, the distracting hollow of his throat, and the noises he’d made over Loki’s coffee. His eyes flicked over his Adam’s apple and his too-long eyelashes and his crooked, smirking mouth. For a wild second, Loki just _wanted._

 _Want what?_ A bitter little voice spoke up at the back of his mind. _Want to be the latest notch in Tony Stark’s bed post?_

Sex was sex, and sex was great. Sex with Tony _could have_ been great. But as far as Loki was considered, he had already missed his window of opportunity. Casual sex was fine, so long as it didn’t come with complications.

And Tony Stark had _definitely_ become a complication.

“I don’t think so, Stark,” Loki didn’t look at him as he put the rest of the clean mugs away. “Bit late for a drink. Some of us have to be up before noon, you know.”

He braced himself for Tony to whine or press the subject. But he didn’t. Instead he gasped comically.

“Before _noon_? Wow, is that really how the other half lives?” He reeled in mock distress. “Here, you poor soul.” He rummaged around in his coat pocket, pulling put three pennies and dropping them into the tip jar. “For your thoughts.”

“Oh fuck you,” Loki was smirking in spite of his best efforts not too. “Get out of here before I report you as a trespasser.”

Tony made his way to the door, grinning back at Loki when he reached it. “Sweet dreams, Morticia.”

“Leave!”

Tony was laughing as the door closed behind him.

It took Loki until quarter-past to finish closing out. He spent the whole time feeling stupidly conflicted about everything that had happened.

 _Maybe I should have just done it_ , he thought as he hung his apron up in the back room. Gotten drunk, stumbled home with him, fucked him silly… Loki bit his lip. The thought was _very_ appealing.

Until he thought again about Tony’s reputation. Tony Stark was a well-known playboy, and Loki knew first hand that he was a notorious flirt. He would probably just as easily taken _Darcy_ out for a drink, had the girl been working instead of him. The idea soured his mood. It was dangerous for Loki to let himself believe he was special. Casual hook ups only worked when they didn’t matter.

And _oh god_ , suddenly this mattered?

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning softly. He couldn’t think about this. He’d made his choice.

He had pulled his coat on and was ready to leave when the remembered the tip jar. He sighed and dragged it over, and was surprised when he saw a crisp bill curled up in there with Tony’s pennies. He pulled it out and unfolded it, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

“You fucking showoff,” he whispered, smiling down at the creased fifty dollar bill. He knelt down to put it securely in the safe under the register. He then spotted the remaining pennies and paused.

_For your thoughts._

After a stiff moment of hesitation, Loki scooped the pennies out up and shoved them into his coat pocket.

 _Sentiment,_ he thought tiredly as he pushed his way out the jingling door and locked it behind him. 


	3. Everybody talks (too much)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I still don't own these guys. But man, if I ran Marvel Studios, there would be a movie coming out in 2014 featuring Tony, Loki and Darcy exclusively. It would be titled _'Sass'_ and everyone would pay to see it. 
> 
> No, shh, don't lie to yourself.

“You _cannot_ be serious.”

“You seriously underestimate how little I’ve got going on in my life.”

"Take it down.”

“C’mon. You practically dared me to do this.”

“Take. It. _Down_.”

“I had to get Thor to write the top parts! You can’t just destroy all our teamwork.”

“ _Thor_ helped you?” Loki’s jaw was so tight his temples visibly throbbed from the pressure.

“Only a little,” Darcy granted. “It was mostly me and Clint. Natasha said we hung it crooked, but I think she was just being picky.”

"Natasha knows about this?” Loki’s head hurt. Clint’s girlfriend worked at a law firm a few blocks away. Loki was convinced she would be the voice of reason about this. He had apparently been mistaken.

"Please,” Darcy snorted. “What _doesn’t_ Natasha know about?”

"Who else?” Loki hesitated to even ask.

 "Just Jane,” Darcy added. Her shit-eating grin curled all the way across her face. “She bet fifteen dollars on you. Toldja she’d make time for this.”

Loki had heard enough. He grabbed the nearest damp sponge and spray bottle and yanked a chair across the floor. It made a angry screech against the tile that nicely reflected Loki’s mood.

“You know, you could save yourself a lot of trouble if you just owned up to what’s going down.” Darcy advised him sagely. “Really, it’s your emotional constipation that enables us.”

“I am going to kill you, Lewis.” He promised in a venomous tone as he climbed up on to the chair. It was the tone Darcy and Clint had dubbed his ‘serial killer voice.’ “Slowly. Intimately. When you least expect it.”

“Ooh, what a sweet talker,” Below him, Darcy leaned back against the counter and bat her eyelashes at him. “Careful Tiger. Save the dirty talk for your boyfriend.”

Loki threw a piece of chalk at her head.

She ducked it in the nick of time, and it clattered noisily against the rack of clean mugs. Loki heard her cackling as she fled out of firing range and disappeared into the safety of the back room.

Loki turned his scowl on the abomination drawn on the chalk board. In place of the usual daily greeting and list of specials, Darcy had drawn an intricate chart. On the top was scrawled a cheery encouragement to _‘Place your Bets!’_ ‘The bets’ headed each column, and each was more absurd than the one before it. ‘Kiss over the counter’ headlined the far left, while ‘hickey sighting by Halloween’ loomed directly in Loki’s face. The rows were each labeled with a sum of money, from five bucks all the way down to fifty. Various blocks had already been filled in with names. Clint had put twenty-five dollars down on Loki and Tony ‘making out on my property by Christmas.’  Darcy and Jane had both wagered that they were ‘probably already banging.’ Even _Thor_ bet that Tony would ‘sweep Loki off his feet by New year.’ Doubtless his brother thought the idea was charming.

The sponge hit the board with a wet squelch.

Loki scrubbed with unnecessary force. He silently cursed Clint’s distaste for dry-erase boards. Loki didn’t trust a simple black board eraser to adequately destroy the evidence. Darcy had become completely relentless ever since Loki had foolishly mentioned Tony’s late night visit. He had refused her demand for details, and she had apparently taken that as Loki withholding something juicy.

He had been enduring his coworkers’ sly-looks and insinuations ever since.

_Ding!_

"This is a good angle for you, Legs. I could get used to it.”

_Oh god._

Loki craned around to see Tony smirking up at him from the counter. 

"You’re early.” His voice was an at least an octave higher than usual when he spoke. Loki glanced at the clock on the wall, trying to play it cool. It wasn’t even nine in the morning yet. What was Stark  _doing_ here?

“Gee, don’t get too excited to see me.” Tony drawled, eyeing Loki up and down, brow furrowed. “What are you doing up there anyway?” He peered to look around Loki’s hips.

Loki angled himself to make sure the remaining bits of the chart were out of Tony’s view. “Nothing.” He said, a little too casually. “Cleaning. Darcy left a mess on the greeting board.” He glanced next to him; ‘Probably already banging’ was still partially visible. He shifted and let his forearm smudge it into illegibility.

“You say that like she’s a cat that threw up on your carpet.” Tony craned his neck curiously, and Loki had to lean sideways too thwart him.

“The likeness is certainly there.” Loki arched an eyebrow, hoping the uncomfortable angle of his spine looked like a casual pose. Tony didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“So what did she -?”

“Thor!” Loki yelled in the direction of the back room. “We have a customer!”

"Hey, that’s not –! ”

Thor appeared a moment later, greeting Tony jovially and brushing confectionary sugar off his hands. “You’re early today!”

“At least someone’s happy to see me.” Tony gave Loki a last bemused look before turning his attention to Thor. “Why is it half the time I see you, you look like a something out of a cooking commercial?”

“Oh, I do most of the baking on weekdays.”

"Is that so?”

Loki let out a quiet breath of relief. He wasn’t sure if Thor was deliberately helping him, or just genuinely that passionate about discussing baked goods. It was hard to tell. Either way, Loki wasted no time in wiping down the rest of the board while Thor had Tony distracted. By the time he had scrubbed away every last incriminating word, Thor was taking Tony’s order and promising him first dibs on the oatmeal cookies he’d whipped up this morning.

“Once they’ve cooled I’ll bring them out for you. It won’t take more than ten minutes -”

“I’ll take it from here Thor.” Loki cut in, stepping down from his chair and tossing the sponge back into the sink. “Don’t you have scones to get started on?”

“Oh,” A stupid little knowing grin had settled on Thor’s face. Loki locked his jaw and gave him a warning look, but his brother didn’t seem properly threatened. “The _scones_ , right. I’ll go take care of those.” Thor had the nerve to wink at Loki as he went by, patting him on the shoulder encouragingly. Loki shut his eyes and silently cursed Thor’s utter lack of subtlety.

“Don’t forget my cookies!” Tony called after Thor’s retreating back. When Loki looked up, Tony raised his eyebrows at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me Blondie was the baker here? Why was that not something I knew?”

Loki made an indifferent noise as he brushed colored chalk off his arm.

“Why else do you think Clint keeps him around?” He said, annoyance creeping into his tone. “His coffee is shit. He needs to do _something_ around here.”

“What’s with you today, sunshine? Not a morning person?” Tony’s grin was hitched up on one side, tired and teasing. Loki huffed out a dry laugh.

“I could say the same about you.” He noted the bags forming under Tony’s eyes. The man had been looking distinctly strung-out this past week, constantly distracted. Twice he had come in wearing the same outfit as the day before, slightly wrinkled with the tie askew. Another day he’d had notes scribbled in sharpie along his arm. _“Figured something out on the way over,”_ He’d explained when Loki asked. _“No paper.”_ He had shrugged, as if this was all completely normal, and asked for three shots in his latte that day.

Loki wasn’t _worried_ though. He just noticed these things.

Tony was crisply dressed today, smelling of cologne and shampoo, his hair still damp from his morning shower. He brushed off his comment.

“Me? I’m fine _._ I’m a total morning person. I’ve been up _all_ morning, in fact.” He gave Loki a cheeky grin that made his tired eyes crinkle up even more. “Admittedly, being eye-level with your ass might have disoriented me a bit.”

“Oh?” Loki quirked an eyebrow, keeping his lips pursed to avoid smirking back. “I’m sorry to have put you off, do forgive me.”

“No apology needed. I’m sure I’ll recover.” Tony’s eyes danced with his familiar energy and something eased in Loki’s chest.

“But, you know, if you _wanted_ to add a third shot to my usual today, I suppose it could make up for the whole ordeal.” He leaned forward against the counter and looked up at Loki from under his lashes, his mouth quirked. Loki was beginning to recognize this as the Tony Stark version of puppy-eyes. They were alarmingly effective.

“Obviously you’re traumatized.” He deadpanned. He set up an extra espresso glass near the maker as he swished over to the milk steamer. Tony made some noise of appreciation behind him.

Something had changed between them in the last two weeks. Not in obvious ways. Their interactions were still made up mostly of insults and nicknames. True to form, neither of them had brought up their late-night conversation again. But nonetheless, it was as if they had shifted gears somehow. Every now and then Tony would call him ‘Legs’ more fondly than Loki was prepared for. Once or twice, Loki caught himself staring at Tony’s throat or lips without meaning too. And if Loki’s fingers lingered just a _little_ too long when he passed Tony his coffees in the mornings…

Well, they didn’t have to talk about it.

“You are my personal Jesus.” Tony gushed, cradling his face in his palm as he sat down on a counter stool.

Loki hummed smugly. “I spoil you so often, it really would behoove you to treat me as a benevolent god.” He told him as he poured milk into a steamer.

“If this is how I get to worship, I am sold” Tony said with a wicked grin. “Would you prefer animal or virgin sacrifices?”

“You’re deranged.”

“There’s no actual proof of that.”

“You have serious issues, then.”

Tony scoffed. “What, because I like coffee?”

Loki gave him an openly incredulous look.

“Last time you were here, you proclaimed my _Butter Cream_ latte was ‘better than sex.’”

“And I stand by that claim,” Tony insisted, pointed at Loki with a mock serious expression. “Have you even tasted that latte? I’m pretty sure I’ve had orgasms that were less impressive.”

“How terribly sad for you.”

Loki had privately taken note of Tony’s reactions to his various creations. Certain flavors earned sighs and contented smiles, others pulled these noises from him that were frankly inappropriate for public areas. He remembered the fuss Tony had made over that latte. The man’s eyes had practically rolled back in his head, and the sounds he’d made had earned him several scandalized looks from other patrons. Loki probably should have told him to shut up, but he had been side-tracked by the sight of Tony sucking whipped cream off his fingers, and the idea had kind of slipped his mind.

“You have a serious addiction.” Loki pressed, absently pumping that same mix – butterscotch and Irish cream - into Tony’s cup. “You should probably see someone about it.”

“That’s funny, I thought I was seeing you about it.” Tony shot back, looking completely unconcerned about the state of his caffeine dependence.

“Oh yes, and that seems to be doing you a _load_ of good.” Loki rolled his eyes as he poured the frothy milk into the mix. He made sure to leave enough room for whipped cream.

“Hey, if I’m an addict, you’re my dealer.”

“Charming.”

“I’d say we have a pretty symbiotic relationship going on here. You supply me with caffeine, and I give you the gift of my sweet company.”

“Mm. How very gracious of you.” He topped the steaming mixture off with a healthy portion of whipped cream and butterscotch ripples. It was the kind of over-sweetened confection that Loki would _never_ have been able to stomach himself.

Tony ogled Loki’s creation greedily until the lid closed over the top. “So long as you don’t cut me off, I’d say this partnership works out pretty well for both of us.”

Loki hummed as he approached the counter, cup in hand. “You’re being presumptuous again, Stark.”

“Am I?” Tony’s grin was softer now, his eyes a little too warm as they scanned Loki’s face. “I know there’s a margin for error here, but I like to think my assumptions are mostly accurate.”

Loki’s stomach squirmed. There, _there_ it was. The _look._ It was different then the lingering looks and meaningful smirks he sometimes caught on Tony’s face. It wasn’t just lust, or attraction. I was as if Loki was the most genuinely fascinating thing in the room. Baring the full weight of Tony’s attention was as gratifying as it was intimidating. Loki opened his mouth with no real idea what to say.

He was saved the need to respond when Tony’s phone erupted into the _Jaws_ theme in his pocket. The engineer sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Hold that thought,” He said, pulling it out and swiping across the screen to answer.

“Obie, now isn’t a great –”

Tony’s face flickered, several emotions passing over it at once.

“Dad.” Loki had never heard that tone in Tony’s voice. He saw the man swallow, his posture tightening unconsciously.

“Hi. Yeah, I didn’t expect – ” Tony stopped talking, apparently cut off by his father on the other end. Loki watched as his brow furrowed. “I stopped to get a coffee, why does that – ” His eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. “Well, yeah, of course I remembered. But I thought I wasn’t supposed to be there until – _okay_ , but last night you said nine-thirty… –” Tony’s mouth tightened, and Loki could pick up the tinny sound of a voice talking right over him on the phone. Tony opened and closed his mouth three times, apparently struggling to get a word in edgewise

“Of _course_ I’m taking this seriously! Do you have any idea how much time I’ve – _dad._ ” Tony voice hit a pained, frustrated note, his eyes flickering with an emotion Loki couldn’t name, but could instantly recognize. Tony turned away then, hunching in on himself a little, his jaw tight as he pressed his ear against the phone. “I am _doing my best,_ ” Tony whispered, low and urgent into the receiver. “If you’d just listen for two seconds…”

Loki felt like he was intruding. He did his best to feign deafness, discomfort clawing at his insides. The more Tony shrank into himself, the twitchier Loki became. He grasped for some distraction - something to clean, a new customer at the register - with no such luck. Instead he ended up staring down at the counter top, where Tony’s hand rested, flexing open and closed anxiously.

“…Look, look, fine, okay? You win, I’m wrong.” Tony made a stiff attempt at sounding affable. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just – can we talk about this over dinner tonight? I really think – what?”

Tony stopped again, and Loki glanced up to see his face crumple in disappointment.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m sure that’s important. Right, I get that, but couldn’t it be any other…uh-huh.” Tony’s whole posture kind of slumped then, his face sliding into something blank, accepting. Loki didn’t need to hear the other end of the conversation to know exactly what had happened.

“Yup. Fine. Some other time…” Tony said robotically. “Don’t even worry about it. Right. I’ll see you th – aaand you’re gone.” Tony pulled the phone away, directing his last comment at the screen. “Good. Nice chat.” He didn’t look up when he shoved his phone into his pocket.

Loki wanted to say something. He had never been equipped to comforting someone. He didn’t know how to _deal_ with things like this. He shifted restlessly and grasped for words – a joke, and insult _something._ When nothing came to him, pushed the warm cup across the counter and pressed it into Tony’s empty, grasping fingers.

His hand closed around it automatically. He glanced at up, as if just then remembering Loki was there. Loki couldn’t read his expression, and didn’t have time to try and decipher it before Tony looked away.

“Right, thanks.” He spoke in the same robotic voice he’d used on the phone, rushed and impersonal. He suddenly sounded a little short of breath.

“Look, I gotta go. Duty calls and what not.”

“Wait – ” Loki’s stomach sank.

He pulled out a twenty dollar bill and tossed it on the counter with jerk movements. “Keep the change.”

“Stark-”

Tony was gone. Loki’s fingers hadn’t even closed over the bill before the door jingled shut behind him.

 

**\---**

           

Tony didn’t come back that day. Loki hadn’t really expected him too. When Thor appeared in the doorway with a plate of cookies and a confused look, Loki had given him a curt response as he jammed Tony’s $20 in the tip jar.

Darcy asked him if they’d had a lover’s spat. Loki responded by ‘accidentally’ spilling coffee grinds into her cleavage.

Loki didn’t act like anything out of the ordinary had happened. It was Tony’s business, and it wasn’t like Loki even _cared_ , right?

When Tony didn’t come in the next day, Loki got antsy. Ten o’ clock came and went, and Loki found himself eyeing the clock almost obsessively for a full hour afterward. He didn‘t say anything about it, but it was a testament to how regular a customer Tony had become that everyone noticed. Darcy didn’t tease him that day. She and Thor took to sharing concerned looks when they thought he wouldn’t notice. Loki found he hated this more than the teasing.

By Thursday, Loki might have been slightly irritable. He reasoned that this was probably completely unrelated to Tony. It could have been the weather, or maybe the over-abundance of pumpkin spice lattes he’d had to make lately. Perhaps he had just remembered how  _stupid_ and  _pointless_ his job was. Who could tell?

He used this as justification to be short with the customers and down-right pissy with his co-workers, biting their heads off for things like breathing too loudly and getting in his line of sight. Unfortunately, this only seemed to exacerbate the number of concerned looks they exchanged.

When he wasn’t snapping at people, Loki caught himself reaching into his apron pocket to fiddle absently with three battered pennies he’d shoved in there weeks ago. The habit made him was stupid and only frustrated him further, but he could never bring himself to toss the pennies away.

Tony didn’t resurface, and Loki’s mood refused to improve, and the two things were definitely _not_ related. Even if his coworkers seemed to think otherwise. They also seemed to be under the impression that Tony’s absence was somehow _Loki’s_ fault. His insistence that _no_ , they hadn’t had a fight, fell on deaf ears. Even Clint was giving him looks now - though as stoic as Barton was, it was hard to tell what the looks might mean.

In a brave and terribly misguided attempt at brotherly solidarity, Thor attempted to talk to him about his feelings. That ended about as well as anyone could have expected. Thor wandered around like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day and Loki endured several nasty looks from a visiting Jane Foster. Clint put him to work doing inventory in the back until he ‘decided to play nice with humanity again.’

Darcy started a new rung to the betting pool – which she now carried as a folded piece of paper in her apron pocket, and occasionally hung up on the corkboard in the back room. Wagers on how long Tony’s absence would last and who would ‘make up first’ had appeared on the end of the chart.

One anonymous gambler bet ten dollars that Tony and Loki would ‘never work out because Loki is a DICK.’ Loki was not shocked when he recognized it as Jane’s delicate, curly handwriting.

On Saturday morning, after nearly a full week of Tony’s absence, Pepper Potts came into the shop.

It had been decided unanimously that Darcy should run the register. Loki made the coffee, losing himself in the soothing, satisfying work. The Saturday rush had been steady since eight-thirty, leaving Loki very little time to brood over Tony’s apparent abandonment. Not that he had been, or anything.

"Hi,” someone at the counter spoke up with a crisp, feminine voice. “This might be an odd request, but is there a Loki working here today?”

 “Uhh…” Darcy’s voice, which had been blandly cheery all morning, was suddenly apprehensive. “Well, yeah, but he’s, um…”

Loki’s head perked up at the sound of his name and he looked over to the register. Darcy was glancing at him furtively, floundering for words in front of a woman in a neat business suit.

"Who is asking for me?” He drawled, wiping his hands off on a towel as he walked over.

The woman turned her polite smile on to him. “Hi, I’m Pepper Potts.” She said, and everything from her pencil skirt to her offered handshake was professional. “I work for Tony Stark.”

“ _Oh my god,_ ” Darcy gasped. “Are you his _lawyer?_ ”

She turned her stricken face on Loki. “Jesus Christ, is he _suing_ you? What did you _say_ to him? No, wait!” Darcy held up a hand as soon as Loki opened his mouth to protest. “Don’t say _anything_!”

She wheeled around to point defiantly at Pepper, her gaze suddenly steely. “He has a right to an attorney. We’ll get Natasha Romanoff in here, and she’ll - !”

“Whoa, whoa,” Pepper held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not Tony’s attorney, I’m just his personal assistant.”

The word ‘ _just_ ’ stuck out in Loki’s brain. He knew Pepper’s name rang a bell. A few years ago, he remembered a gossipy internet article announcing her ‘scandalous’ break up with ‘billionaire heart throb Tony Stark.’ It hadn’t apparently been _that_ scandalous, because there had been no other media coverage on it whatsoever. Tony had mentioned her from time to time in passing; ‘Pepper did this’, ‘Pepper thinks this’, ‘Pepper would have _kittens_ if…’

Loki frowned, something like annoyance gnawing at his insides. He sized the woman up automatically. She was tall – taller than Tony. She had a slim figure and a freckled face, fringed with long strawberry blonde hair. The word _‘pretty’_ crossed his mind, and Loki wanted to wrinkle his nose.

"So Tony’s _not_ pressing charges?” Darcy asked cautiously.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Pepper answered with a vaguely concerned look on her face.

“Why are you talking to me then?” Loki demanded impatiently.

Darcy smacked him hard on the arm. “Why do you _question_ shit like this?” Darcy looked back at Pepper, much friendlier now. “I’m really sorry, his personality is basically ‘permanent PMS’.”

“It’s fine.” Pepper didn’t bat an eyelash at Loki’s rudeness. Loki tried not to be visibly pissed off by that.

“I’m actually here for coffee.” She explained. “I am under specific instructions to make sure you make it.”

Oh. Loki’s heart skipped a little. “What, is _Mr. Stark_ too good to get his own coffee all of the sudden?” Loki sneered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Tony is in the ‘final stages’ of a particularly important project right now.” Pepper continued to be frustratingly unflappable. “Which more or less means he hasn’t left his workshop since Monday night. It’s doubtful he’ll be reemerging until he’s completely finished.”

Darcy made a low whistle of disbelief, saying something about Jane and ‘crazy-ass scientists’. Loki wasn’t listening.

 _“Of course I’m taking this seriously! Do you have any idea how much time…”_ Tony’s pinched, determined face stood out clearly in Loki’s mind. All at once Tony’s absence clicked. Loki’s head swam with something between guilt and relief.

“In the interest of his health,” Pepper continued, “I’ve stepped in to ensure he eats and sleeps on a semi-regular basis.” She pursed her lips, the first hint of annoyance on her perfectly professional face.

“The trouble is, he gets caffeine withdrawal headaches. Energy drinks are not an option – not after what happened last time. And he turns his nose up at every variation of Starbucks I can find.”

Pepper sighed, abandoning all pretense of not being completely fed up with her boss. “He says this is the only place that will do.”

Loki’s stomach swooped. “Does he now?” Loki stood there with his arms crossed, a very deliberately neutral expression in his face.

“He does.” Pepper’s lip’s curled upward slowly in the barest hint of an amused grin. “He’s been pretty adamant about it.”

Darcy was looking at Loki now, wicked glee painted plainly on her face. “ _That’s_ fitting, since Princess here has been  – OW, _mother f—!”_

Loki didn’t even acknowledge Darcy with a look as he ground his heel down on her toe. “Well that’s predictably needy of him.” Loki drawled over Darcy’s muffled curse.

“You’re telling me.” Pepper agreed, eying the exchange with brows furrowed. She wisely choose not to comment on it. “He says he has a ‘usual’? He said only you know what that is?”

Loki lost his battle with his smirk, letting it crawl across his face. Something flickered in Pepper’s eyes when he did, and her purse-lipped smile grew.

“I suppose I do.” Loki said in long-suffering tones. He nabbed a large cup off the top of the stack behind him.

“Darcy, ring Ms. Potts up for a large double shot.” He glanced back over at the tired, smiling redhead behind the counter. He felt inexplicably more inclined toward her now than he had a minute ago. “And will there be anything else, Ms. Potts?” The gesture was more cordial than he’d been to anyone all week.

Pepper gave him a purse-lipped smile in return. “Tony says I should ask you to ‘surprise me.’”

 Loki’s hummed, his smile hitching up a little higher on one cheek. “I believe I could manage that.”

“I certainly hope you can.”

Loki was halfway through labeling one cup ‘Greasy Hermit’ before the curiousness of Pepper’s statement hit him. The woman’s was still smiling at him softly when he shot her a quick look. Loki decided it was better left unquestioned.

While his back was turned, Darcy leaned across the counter, gesturing Pepper to lean down so she could whisper conspiratorially. She pulled a folded, battered piece of paper out of her apron pocket as she did.

“So, I don’t know if you’re a gambling woman, _but_ …”

 

\---

Tony finished in the wee hours on Tuesday morning.

The prototype had been completed sometime on Sunday, but that was only the half of it. After the miniature arc reactor finally lit up - humming faintly and flickering the overhead lights in the lab - Tony had recorded his very professional conclusion to his project log. (“Holy shit, it’s working. It’s doing the thing. Dummy are you getting this? Fuck, I did it, holy mother of - !”)

He had been a flurry of energy after that, babbling at Pepper when she came to deliver food, babbling at her louder when she shoved him out of the lab and towards the R&D department’s communal shower. He stopped babbling for a while after she pressed a warm bag of Thai food into his hands and told him to eat. By the time she left, Tony’s wild energy had hit a wall, and he finally passed out on the couch.

As it turned out, building the thing was only the fun part. Then came the actual _work._ He had to run tests and diagnostics, record data out-put and whip up a comprehensive written summary and pitch for his completed project. The worst of it was filling in all the tedious approval paper work for the company – things he _should_ have been exempt from, as a Stark, but that he didn’t trust his father not to expect anyway. It all boiled down to so many hours bent over a desk groaning. (“And not in the fun way” he’d joked to Pepper. She hadn’t found him as hilarious as he supposed he was.)

Three days later, Tony Stark slumped back into his seat and ordered Jarvis to send off the last email to the board and his father. It contained a full summary and time log of his proposed clean energy project – the one he’d finished with several weeks to spare before the appeal.

Suck on that, Howard.

“Jarvis,” Tony’s voice was crackly from disuse and lack of sleep. “Time?”

"The time is 7:31 am on Tuesday, October 22nd, Sir.”

“Jesus…” Tony rubbed the heels of his hands into his aching, over-taxed eyes. All of his victorious adrenaline from had been leeched out of him of the three days of paper work, leaving him hollowed out and bone tired. It was done, he realized. The relief that flooded his belly helped stave off the hollow-feeling somewhat.

Then his stomach growled.

“Jarvis, how long has it been since I - ?”

“Ms. Potts stopped by with a steak sandwich and a large salad last night, sir.” His A.I. reminded him in his usual matter-of-fact way. “She insisted on watching you eat the salad. You consumed the sandwich as you completed the final diagnostics; approximately ten hours ago.”

“Oh. Huh.”

Tony arched his back, sighing when it cracked satisfyingly. He peeled himself up out of his chair and was stuck with an immediate wave of dizziness. He gripped the table to steady himself, knocking an empty coffee cup to the floor.

“Sir,” Jarvis spoke up again “You have been awake for almost 36 hours now.”

“Hardly a record,” Tony shrugged, shaking off the floaty feeling in his head. “What’s your point, J?”

“According to my data records, in the last eight days you have not fulfilled the minimum suggested number of sleep hours.” The A.I. continued steadfastly. “I strongly suggest that you return home to remedy this as soon as possible.”

Tony hummed in distaste. Sure, yeah, he was completely exhausted. But after a week of voluntarily secluding himself from society, Tony was restless more than anything. Even the comfort of his workshop began to feel cagy and claustrophobic after a while. He wouldn’t be crashing on the sofa again anytime soon, not after what it had done to his back. But the thought of returning to his large, empty apartment right now was not appealing either.

He leaned over to grab the fallen coffee cup at his feet. Spiky black script mocked him from the side of it, _Greasy Hermit._ He had also received two other coffees, dubbing him _Recluse_ and _Pathetic Shut-in_ respectively. Tony had taken his time with them, savoring every sip long after it had turned cold. He wasn’t sure how he survived off the office swill before; there was really no comparison.

“Nah, J,” Tony said, setting the empty cup back down on the table with a hollow ‘clunk!’ “Sleep can wait. You know what I need right now? A coffee.” He grabbed his abandoned suit jacket, swinging it on over his grubby t-shirt. The motion alone made his head swim, and he blinked several times to steady himself. “And probably a bagel. Or two.”

“Sir,” Jarvis sounded slightly distressed now. “Caffeine is not a suitable replacement for sleep. I might advise you…”

“Alright, alright, cool it.” Tony said, waving his hand pointlessly in a placating gesture. “I’ll go right home to bed afterward, mom. You have my word. I’ve also got social needs to be met, you know.”

Tony buttoned his jacket idly searching in his pocket for his keys. “Now where did I park again?”

“Sir.” Jarvis’s voice was out-right warning now. Tony realized this about the same time he realized he couldn’t focus his vision completely.

“Right,” Tony said, blinking a few times. “I gotcha. I’ll call a cab.”

“Very good, sir.” Tony was probably imagining the condescension in Jarvis’s voice. Probably.

-

Tony found himself at the stoop of Barton’s Beans a half hour later. It had apparently rained last night, leaving the sidewalk damp and the morning air was crisp and clean in Tony’s lungs. He shivered a little as he hopped out of the cab, his suit jacket an inadequate guard against the damp October chill. Someone had craved a jack-o-lantern and set it on the stoop, and twinkling orange lights had been hung inside to frame the windows. When he pushed the door open, the familiar jingle of bells and the warm, inviting scent of coffee washed over him. Tony was struck all at once by how badly he’d missed this place. 

“My god, you look awful.”

Tony’s stomach swooped. There was Loki, standing behind the counter, eying him up and down with a dubious look on his face, in the exact same spot he’d left him over a week ago. He was scowling, as perusal, his sleek black hair pushed primly out of his sharp, angular face. Tony didn’t know when a week had started to feel like a long absence, but looking at Loki made Tony’s chest ache with something like loneliness. And that didn’t make any sense at all, really, especially not _now_.

“Hello to you too, Legs” He replied, his voice about 20% snark and 80% exhausted rasp.

Loki’s green eyes stopped glaring at his unwashed hair to look at his face. Something flickered, there and gone, in Loki’s expression. Relief? Annoyance? Affection? It was too quick for Tony to tell. The barista gestured pointedly to a counter stool across from him.

“Sit down before you collapse, please.” He drawled. “I’d rather not have to call an ambulance if you keel over.”

Tony smirked then, sleepy and comfortable.

“Your concern warms my heart, it really does.” Tony slumped down in the seat, leaning heavily on the counter.

“You look like you’ve been living in a cave.” Loki commented, while he absently pressed a button on the espresso machine. Tony leaned his head on one hand and let his eyes slip shut, the gurgle of the machine and the dark smell of coffee grounds settling his frayed nerves.

“Mm, the jury’s out on whether or not my lab can actually be classified as a cave.” He mumbled. “S’more like a dungeon or …secret lair.”

He felt his fingers clasp around the back of his hand. For a wild, heart thudding moment, Tony was convinced he had dosed off – that he was dreaming. He could feel Loki leaning forward across the counter, getting closer. His breath hitched, but he didn’t dare try and open his eyes to confirm it…

“Stark?” Loki’s voice was soft but firm. It startled Tony back to reality and he blinked his eyes open and looked down. Loki _was_ holding his hand. With the other hand, he pressed a steaming shot of espresso into his palm.

“Do not fall asleep at my counter.” Loki’s eyes were dancing with some kind of amusement, a small smile playing at his lips. “I do not need you drooling on it.”

Tony swallowed. He was distracted, not for the first time, by the greenness of Loki’s eyes. He closed his hand around the hot cup.

“A welcome back gift?” he rasped, with a fair attempt at a smug grin. “For me? Aw, Legs, you shouldn’t have.”

“Drink it before I change my mind.” Loki threatened. There was no heat to the words, and Loki still hadn’t let him go. Tony was sure he could hear the thud of his pulse – or was it Loki’s pulse?

The moment was shattered a second later when Darcy came swooping through the door. Her eyes fell on Tony and she let out a little whoop of joy.

“Hey, look who decided to join the world of the living again!”

Loki’s fingers had disappeared in an instant. Tony blinked, and Loki had moved away to mess with the espresso machine as casual as could be. Tony told himself he shouldn’t pout.

“What’s shakin’, Cookie?” He greeted her with a worn-out smile. She gave him a pained sort of look.

“Wow, dude. Scratch that ‘world of the living’ thing. You look out of it.”

“Ye of little faith,” Tony scoffed, tossing back the espresso and gulping it down. It was like a shock of liquid heat down his body, and he felt a little more alive when he looked at her again.

“I could go for some food though,” he added. “What’cha got in the way of bagels?”

“Plenty,” Darcy said. “I’ll hook you up. But, man, when was the last time you showered?”

Tony pointed the empty espresso cup at her with a mock-serious look. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

Darcy wrinkled her nose, but proceeded to set him up with the largest bagel he’d ever seen. She chatted while it toasted, and Tony really did try to focus. But his eyes were drawn to Loki as if the man had a magnet in his back. The tall barista didn’t say a word as he poured milk into the steamer and pumped a combination of syrups into a cup. Tony found himself distracted by idle details; the impression of his shoulder blades through his fitted turtleneck, the one stray bit of hair that curled back round his ear, his long fingers gripped around the cup. Tony was sure Loki felt him staring. He caught little flashed of green eyes looking his way. Once the bastard actually _smirked_ , and Tony had found it particularly hard to tear his eyes away from the dimple that pressed itself into his cheek.

“…Tony? Earth to Stark, hello?”

“What? Yes, hello, totally listening.” Tony blinked several times and turned his attention back to Darcy, too late to play it cool.

“Uh-huh.” Rather than looking put-out by his lack of attention, she seemed positively smug. The object of Tony’s distraction had obviously not been lost on her. “I’m sorry, did you guys want sometime alone, or…”

“Lewis.” Loki’s spoke up, glaring daggers at Darcy from over his shoulder.

“What? I’m just saying, if you guys are gonna ogle each other right now, that’s fine. I can come back later.”

Tony snorted, and Loki shot him a look that plainly read ‘don’t you dare encourage this.’ Tony shrugged at him innocently.

“I’m sorry, were we not ogling each other right now? I missed the memo.”

Darcy choked on a noise that might have been laughter. Loki looked perfectly livid and slightly pink around the ears.

“You are lucky I can chock that up to delusions from lack of sleep.” He popped a lid on the cup his hand and turned around. “Make yourself useful and ring up his order.” Loki snapped at Darcy while she continued to recover from her giggle-fit. Loki set the cup down in front of Tony with a bit more force than needed.

“I really shouldn’t make you these anymore. It only encourages poor behavior.”

Tony made some sort of vague, happy noise as he wrapped his hands around the warm cardboard. The steam trickling out of the top warmed his chin as he took a deep inhale. It smelled like pumpkin spice and something else, sweeter. Tony took a sip without preamble and groaned around the lid.

“ _Fuck,”_ he rasped out, the flavors of pumpkin spice and caramel lingering on his tongue. “This is…this is… _god_ , this is perfect.” He paid no mind to Darcy’s raised eyebrows as he took another long sip, pulling away with a sigh. When he looked up again, it was to grin at Loki dreamily. He wasn’t sure if the barista’s ears were flushed again, or if it was just his imagination.

“Mm, is this the part in the ‘welcome back’ party where you dramatically proclaim how much you missed me?” Tony waggled his eyebrows eagerly.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Oh, _terribly._ ” He simpered, with an ironic slant to his lips. “I pined.”

For some reason, Loki’s remark almost had Darcy redoubling into giggles. Loki shot her a deadly look and she seemed to bite the impulse down.

Darcy rung up his order. The bagel she gave him was so thickly coated in cream cheese Tony had to lick it off his fingers. He ate it fast, his hunger hitting him hard with the first bite. Sometime while he ate Darcy disappeared into the back room. Loki rung up other orders, made other coffees, and Tony found himself lulled by the fact that neither of them needed to talk. Tony didn’t have the energy for his usual repertoire today, anyway. They exchanged looks and comments, and once Tony caught Loki staring as he suck cream cheese off his thumb. All and all, it was time well spent.

Filling his stomach left Tony warm and sleepy, his hands cupped loosely around his still-warm latte. Strong as it was, Tony’s exhaustion was stronger. When Loki took his plate away to clean, he snickered at him.

“Remember the rule. No falling asleep on my counter.”

“Mmm, m’not.”

Loki clicked his tongue, and Tony peeled one eye open to look at him. There was an odd smile on his face, soft and secretive. The sight of it made Tony grin back out of some unknown reflex.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Loki’s tone was innocent. Tony wrinkled his nose.

“Why is it whenever you act honest, I get nervous?”

“You’re just a naturally suspicious person, Stark.”

"Hmmm,” Tony tried to glare at him, but found it was too much effort. He yawned instead.

“There is a cab outside.” Loki jabbed his thumb in the direction of the windows. And oh, yeah, Tony had told that guy to come back. Right.

“Go home.” Loki prompted.

Tony grumbled but didn’t argue. He pulled on his jacket, staggered out of the stool and gave Loki and small salute and a wink.

“Don’t miss me too much when I’m gone now, Princess.”

“I will do my very best not to weep over you.” Loki promised drily. Tony was pretty sure he still saw a smile still playing at his lips.

The rain had started up again outside, a soft, lazy drizzle on the concrete. It wasn’t until Tony was dosing off in the back of his cab that he noticed something odd. Picking up his cup to take a sip, he turned it around to check today’s nickname. Only there was none. Instead, Loki had scrawled a neat 10-digit number across the top.

Tony blinked at it blearily. It took his sleep-deprived brain an embarrassingly long moment to realize what he was seeing.

"Son of a bitch.” A huge, helpless smile curled its way across his face.

 

\---

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Unsaved Number] 12:08pm

Here’s hoping you didn’t give me some reject number, Legs.

 

[From: Unsaved Number] [To: Tony Stark] 12:10pm

I’m sorry, who is this?

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Unsaved Number] 12:12pm

Fuck.

           

[From: Unsaved Number] [To: Tony Stark] 12:13pm

Language, Stark. Was that really necessary to send to a potential strangers?

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Unsaved Number] 12:13pm

You sneaky little shit.

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 12:13pm

Its bullshit moves like that that make me not trust you.

 

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 12:15pm

Maybe I like keeping you on your toes.

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 12:15pm

Apparently.

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 12:27pm

So whatcha up too?

 

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 12:29pm

Are you seriously asking me that right now?

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 12:29pm

Humor me, I’m tired.

           

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 12:32pm

Go to sleep then.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 12:33pm

But I’m bored.

 

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 12:38pm

That is not a good enough justification to avoid sleep.

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 12:39pm

I feel like you’re avoiding the question.

 

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 12:42pm

I’m at work, Stark.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 12:43pm

Oh, Right. I saw you there.

 

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 12:45pm

Yes, very good.

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 12:48pm

When do you get off?

           

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 12:49pm

That’s a bit forward, Stark.

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 12:52pm

What?

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 12:59pm

…You cheeky asshole.

 

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 1:02

Took you a while to get that.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:05

You have no sympathy for my under-slept state.

           

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 1:06

Bless you for believing I’m capable of sympathy.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:07pm

Do your coworkers know you’re sending me dirty-jokes on the job?

           

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 1:11pm

Not all of us share every detail of our lives with those around us, Stark.

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:17pm

I have a first name you know.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:18pm

You should use it sometime.

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:18pm

I think we’re there. We’ve reached that point.

           

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 1:20pm

Why should I use your first name? You never use mine.

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:24pm

But I call you a variety of friendly nicknames! It’s different.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:25pm

Calling me ‘Stark’ is so formal.

 

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 1:29pm

I give you plenty of nicknames.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:31pm

Yeah, on my cups. Not in conversation.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:35pm

I feel like I am the only one truly committed to this aspect of our relationship, Legs.

           

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 1:40pm

I am done talking to you now.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:44pm

Aww, don’t be that way.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 1:56om

Legs?

           

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 2:00pm

Please tell me you didn’t save my number as ‘Legs’ on your phone.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 2:05pm

What? No, of course not.

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 2:06pm

What kind of person do you take me for?

           

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 2:09pm

You did, didn’t you?

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 2:12pm

You can’t prove that.

 

[…]

 

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 4:14pm

So is this your way of saying you’ll come out for that drink now?

           

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 4:30pm

Do you recall me saying any such thing?

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 4:32pm

Not in so many words.

           

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 4:41pm

Well, in so many words, I suppose not.

           

[From: Tony Stark] [To: Legs] 4:47pm

You’re a deeply confusing person, you know that?

 

[From: Legs] [To: Tony Stark] 5:03pm

Just keeping you on your toes, Stark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest here; this story is still REALLY a work in progress. So if small details are added or changed between now and the time I post chapter four, well... Shhhhh.
> 
> Comments and critiques are hugely appreciated!


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